


The Mistakes Aren't Just French Anymore

by EmeraldOcean



Series: Hunters and Heroes [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Supernatural, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Biting, Blow Jobs, Bottom Dean, Bottom Tony, Case Fic, Castiel's Tie, Coming Untouched, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Handprint Kink, Humor, Jealous Castiel, Jealousy, Language Kink, Light Angst, Light Bondage, M/M, Marking, Oblivious Dean, Pining Dean, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Castiel, Possessive Steve Rogers, Praise Kink, Rimming, Shower Sex, Spanking, Top Castiel, Top Steve, Torture (takes place during hallucination; NOT part of sexy times)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-06-07 18:42:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 50,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6819667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldOcean/pseuds/EmeraldOcean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This isn't the first time that Dean Winchester has found himself in an alternate universe, and he highly doubts it will be the last. But for now all he can do is go with it, to attempt to help this group of superheros (yep, honest to God superheros) fight a villain that they've never faced before, a villain that's all too familiar to the Winchesters. </p>
<p>At least this time he's got his brother and his angel with him, even if said angel keeps giving him pointed glares and doesn't seem to want to play nice with all of their new friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. We're Not in Kansas Anymore, Sam

**Author's Note:**

> Timelines for the respective universes are as follows: In the Supernatural universe, the action takes place during season 6, post episode 17 (My Heart Will Go On); In the Marvel Cinematic Universe, the action is taking place post Age of Ultron but pre-Civil War.

Dean Winchester wakes to the noise of a babbling brook and what sounds like twittering birds, if he isn’t mistaken. He is used to being awoken by noises, though it is usually more of the highway traffic, clanking ice machine, or cantankerous drunk variety. Peaceful nature sounds, by dint of being unusual, are a bit disconcerting. Also surprising, as he drags his right hand underneath his pillow to reach for the knife he never sleeps without, is the cool silky feel of the sheet he’s lying on and the firm yet extremely comfortable mattress below him. He knows for a fact that when he face-planted onto the motel bed last night in exhaustion that it had been as scratchy and lumpy as usual. 

Failing to find the knife, Dean cracks one eye open to surreptitiously take in his surroundings. The room is large and looks to be tastefully, though expensively decorated, with cool colors and modern furnishings. There’s a sleek desk situated in front of a wall of windows with floor-to-ceiling blinds which are mostly closed, opened only enough to allow a bit of early morning sunshine through. Paintings and sconces, both geometric in style, adorn the walls and Dean counts three closed doors. The king-sized bed is plush and warm and a far cry from the cramped twin with the mysterious stains in which he fell asleep last night. 

He appears to be alone so he quietly flings back the down comforter and slowly rolls to a sitting position, realizing that the soothing sounds of nature are coming from an alarm clock on the nightstand. It’s at this point he also realizes that he’s fully dressed, boots and all, and when he slips a hand into the waistband at the small of his back, the Hunter is relieved to find out that his ivory-handled Colt is present and accounted for. Whatever messed up situation he’s about to find himself in, at least he won’t be going into it empty-handed. 

Standing up and moving as quietly as possible, Dean first creeps to the window to peek through the blinds. Instead of the sight of Baby in the motel parking lot that he remembers from last night, Dean takes in the view of a large expanse of perfectly landscaped grass ending in a thickly wooded forest. The windows take up the whole wall but they don’t appear to open. He supposes he could try breaking the glass, but like everything else in the room, they look extremely sturdy. He abandons that idea for now, choosing instead to head toward one of the doors. He doesn’t know where he is and perhaps more importantly, he doesn’t know if Sam is here somewhere as well. Dean clearly remembers Camp Chitaqua and that shitty future Zachariah sent him to and he’s starting to get the feeling that his current situation has the undeniable stink of angels. If that’s the case and Sam is here too, there’s no way that Dean is leaving him to deal with those giant bags of dicks alone. 

At the thought of angels, Dean’s mind automatically drifts to Castiel. He and Cas may not be as joined at the hip as they were back when they were mid-apocalypse, but Cas still seems to occupy as much space in Dean’s thoughts as he ever has, especially now that Cas is back in his life, fluttering trench coat and all. He had tried to forget about Cas. He’d done the apple pie-life thing with Lisa for a whole year while mourning the loss of his brother and his angel. Cas had chosen to fuck off back to heaven and Dean had tried to forget him, he really had. He’d never prayed to him during that year though he had wanted to just about every damn day. But what would he have even said if he had? He knows what he had wanted to say. He had wanted to beg Cas to come back to him, leave heaven to police itself and come back to Earth to be at Dean’s side where he belongs. But he couldn’t. Cas had made his choice as if there weren’t even any other options, and Dean supposes to Cas there really hadn’t been. Why would Castiel, newly re-powered up angel of the Lord, even consider staying on Earth with Dean Winchester, world’s biggest fuck-up? So he had done his best to forget, to be a spouse to Lisa, and a father to Ben, and to ignore the burning ache in his chest that he felt whenever his thoughts strayed to a certain blue-eyed angel.

 _Get it together_ , Dean thinks to himself. _You’ve got more important things to focus on right now than your hopeless infatuation with the raven-haired, gravely-voiced celestial being_ , he adds. He considers praying to Cas now, but decides to first wait and see if he can find Sam, and maybe also find out where the hell he is and what is going on. 

Dean cracks open the first door to discover a walk-in closet, shrouded in darkness, but with the vague silhouettes of hanging clothes and shelves filled with what appears to be boxes of varying sizes. He silently shuts the door and moves onto the next, poking his head into a sunny bathroom, complete with toilet, marble sink, and an absolutely enormous glass-doored shower with multiple shower heads and a built-in bench. His eyes linger on the shower, wistfully contemplating saying, “fuck it,” and stripping down right now to give it a go. But this is Dean’s life and with his luck he figures that he’d quite literally get caught with his pants down as some angel or demon walked in to kill him or do whatever else it is that they have planned for him. So instead he retreats back into the bedroom and heads for door number three. 

To Dean’s relief, this last door is not only unlocked, but it opens into a seemingly empty hallway, a hallway that will hopefully lead him to find Sam and a way out of this unknown, though admittedly really nice place. Dean quickly checks to make sure that the Colt is loaded, partially ejecting the clip and smoothly replacing it with as little sound as possible, relieved to see that it’s full of silver bullets. They won’t stop demons or angels but it’s better than nothing, he supposes, and it calms the beating of his heart a bit to feel the heavy weight of the pistol in his hands. 

Dean doesn’t see an obvious way out and so a very quick game of eeny-meeny-miney-mo decides for him to head to the right out of the bedroom, hugging the far wall and passing several closed doors until he reaches a turn. He stops and listens intently but doesn’t hear anything so he figures he’ll keep going instead of staying to investigate any of the rooms he just passed. He gives one last glance down the way in which he came and rounds the turn in the wall, coming to an abrupt stop, gun pointed directly at the chest of one of the most spectacular bodies that Dean has ever seen. 

Dean’s brain shorts out for just a moment as his eyes take a quick once-over of the chiseled god standing before him, from his head of short, tousled blonde hair, piercing blue eyes and slightly plump lips, down over his ridiculously broad shoulders and trim waist which are hidden beneath a comfortably tight white t-shirt, finally landing on his slim hips, track pants hanging just loose enough to hint at the delicious curve of some seriously lickable hip bones. He quickly snaps out of it when the well-muscled, and now that Dean notices, bare-footed and unarmed man raises his hands in a defensive posture and says, “Who are you and how did you get in here?”

Dean’s no monster, regardless of what some people might say, he’s not one to shoot first and ask questions later if there’s any question in his mind that he may be dealing with a garden variety human. But that doesn’t mean that he’s a fool, and so until he can get his hands on some salt or holy water he resigns himself to keeping his gun aimed on the other man as he answers him with, “You first, Mr. Universe. I’m the one with the gun here. Who are you? Where am I? And where is Sam?!”

The man narrows his blue eyes a bit and slightly cocks his head to the side, causing a brief twinge in Dean’s chest as the image of another pair of blue eyes and slanted gaze flashes through his mind. “You’re looking for Sam but you don’t know where you are,” says Mr. Universe, before adding, “How did you… never mind that for now. Look, I don’t want to hurt you if you don’t mean any harm so why don’t you put down the gun and we can talk about this?”

“Yeah, I don’t think so, Chuckles. You know where Sam is? Tell me now and I might not kick your ass.” Looking again at the very well-muscled body standing in front of him Dean isn’t quite sure that he’d be able to do a whole lot of ass kicking if Mr. Universe decides to call his bluff, and he doesn’t really want to shoot this guy if he’s just some dude, but he’s talking like he knows who Sam is so maybe he’s not so innocent after all. 

Before Dean can really decide how he wants to go about getting this guy to cooperate, the Colt is flying out of Dean’s hand, the bare foot of the Adonis narrowly missing his head as he ducks down and aims a punch at the other man’s torso. He hears the man grunt just a bit when Dean’s fist connects with rock-hard abs but before he knows it, there are big hands on his shoulders quickly spinning Dean around and into a choke hold. Dean slams his booted foot down as hard as he can on the other man’s instep, quickly followed by a hard jab of Dean’s elbow to his solar plexus. Doubling over a bit, Mr. Universe’s arms loosen around Dean’s throat just enough for him to break out of the hold and spin to face him again. Expecting the man to be incapacitated for at least a few moments, Dean is surprised to find those baby blues hard and focused like a laser right on Dean’s face, pretty lips pulled back over white teeth in a sneer before one of those big hands connects with Dean’s jaw and it’s lights out. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“He said that he was looking for you, Sam, but he claimed to not know where he was.” Sam? Dean’s ears perk at the name and he slits his eyes open to look around while deciding whether or not to keep playing possum. He’s lying on his side on what he believes to be a sofa with his hands tied behind his back. A quick survey of the room shows Dean that he is in a large open living area filled with comfortable looking furniture and a small but modern kitchenette off in one far corner. Two of the walls are filled with large windows, out of which Dean can see that he is now on an upper floor which looks across to a very large, almost industrial-looking building on one side and another expanse of manicured lawn on the other. Hold on, dean thinks; are those jets that he can see parked in the distance? What the hell kind of place is this? Has he ended up in some top-secret government facility or something? Well, at least this would be a first. The lack of sulfuric stink and bloody corpses is definitely refreshing, even if he is still being restrained by unknown, possibly dangerous people, two of whom are standing off to the side talking about him. 

Though one of the men’s backs is turned to him, Dean can still recognize him as Mr. Universe. And damn, if Dean had thought that his front was something to write home about, he believes that there could be novels written about that ass. 

“He said he was looking for me,” the other man asks. And wait, Mr. Universe had called this man ‘Sam’ but he definitely isn’t Dean’s Sam. This man is just as beautiful as Mr. Universe, dark skinned and dark haired where the former is light, but about as well-muscled, with handsome features and a stature just a smidge shorter than Mr. Universe -- and Dean himself for that matter. “Well I don’t recognize him. And how the hell did he get in here? And without tripping any alarms? Are the systems down? Should we call Stark?” The man -- Sam, Dean reminds himself -- fires off these questions to Mr. Universe, who seems to take a moment to consider before another voice, in a soft spoken British accent, speaks up from somewhere behind the sofa.

“The security systems all appear to be in working order, Captain, though they have failed to pick up any breaches to the compound.” Captain? Compound? Definitely some sort of top-secret military facility, Dean thinks. He really hopes that Sam isn’t somewhere being water-boarded right now. “Also, you may wish to be aware that the intruder is now conscious, though I believe that he wishes us to remain ignorant of that fact.” 

Dirty snitch, Dean thinks to himself as Mr. Universe spins on his heel while his conversant takes a step forward, bringing him up alongside the other man to present a united front before they’re both fixing laser-beam gazes on Dean. _Time to face the beautiful music_ , Dean muses, as he rolls up to a sitting position, internally fighting down the dizziness and slight nausea that accompanies this action. Jesus, how hard had this guy hit him? Dean can’t remember the last time that he felt so awful after a fight. And for that matter, he really can’t recall any time in recent history that he had been knocked out so quickly or seemingly easily. It’s just plain embarrassing. Maybe he’s losing his touch. 

Realizing that brute force and an authoritative manner obviously won’t work on this crowd, Dean decides to switch tack and turn on the charm. It’s usually more effective when dealing with women but Dean’s running out of options and he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t eager to find out how well it’s received in this instance. Perhaps if Mr. Universe here isn’t actually up to some nefarious plot against him and his brother, Dean might just get the chance to find out if that body feels as perfect as it looks. “So, fellas, I’m not usually one for bondage so how’s about you take off these restraints and we can all get to know one another a bit more civil-like?” Dean ends this statement with his most cocky smirk and a saucy wink, hoping that he doesn’t look too green and praying that he’s not about to lose his lunch all over the expensive looking rug. 

He can’t help but notice the speculative gleam in Mr. Universe’s eyes as he quickly flits his gaze down over Dean’s body and back up again, his upper teeth slightly imbedded in his plump lower lip, before his eyes turn hard again, fists slightly curling at his sides. Dean’s smirk blossoms into a full on grin at this before he hears the man say, “I’m going to ask you again… Who are you and how did you get in here?” 

“Look,” Dean says, sighing slightly, “My name is Dean Winchester and I actually have no idea how I got in here, or even where ‘here’ is for that matter. I went to sleep in a shitty motel and woke up in your fancy-ass bed so if you’re not the one who put me there, I’m more than happy to leave before finding out who did. If you’ll just tell me where Sam is and point us to the exit, I’ll be out of your hair in two shakes.” The man’s handsome face reddens slightly at the words ‘your bed’ but he quickly recovers and gets that squinty-eyed confused look on his face again. 

“Sam is right here,” he says, pointing to the man standing next to him. The man just crosses his muscular arms over his chest and narrows his eyes threateningly. 

“Not him,” Dean says, shaking his head, “My brother, Sam. Freakishly tall, in desperate need of a haircut, capable of producing a different bitchface for every day of the week. Ringin’ any bells?” 

“Sounds like we have a winner.” Dean whips his head around to the left at the sound of the new voice, his eyes landing on his brother, hair mussed up and clothes in disarray with the beginnings of a black eye and his hands bound behind his back, being led into the room by a short voluptuous redhead. “I found this one sneaking around on the second floor. Claims he doesn’t know how he got here. All he would say is that he wanted to know where his brother was. That’s this one, I assume,” she says, pushing Sam down onto the sofa and gesturing at Dean. 

“Got your ass kicked by a girl, huh Sammy,” Dean asks before shifting his gaze back to the woman, “If you had wanted a real challenge, sweetheart, you should have come to me. A little one-on-one action, what do you say?” The teasing grin is back on Dean’s face as the woman slowly saunters up to stand in front of him. She gently runs her fingers through the short strands of his hair and leans her ample breasts level with Dean’s eyes before painfully yanking his head back and jabbing him in the throat. 

“Natasha,” Mr. Universe says sharply, “He needs to be able to speak if we’re going to get any answers from him.” 

“My bad,” she states, shifting her gaze to stare pointedly at Dean’s crotch before looking him right in the eye as she says, “Next time I’ll aim a bit lower.” With that, any vestiges of color that remain in Dean’s face swiftly retreats to points unknown as he chokes around his sore throat and shifts in his seat in a feeble attempt to protect his most beloved possession. 

Dean looks sheepishly up at his brother only to encounter one of the aforementioned bitchfaces, this one easily conveying, _really Dean? You really think it was a good idea to goad our very strong and capable captor with sexist comments and a dickish attitude? You’re lucky you still have your head, not to mention your balls_. Dean figures that’s a fair enough assessment so he merely shrugs one shoulder before returning his gaze to the trio of hotness assembled before them. 

“So, what are we thinking?” The woman stands with her feet shoulder width apart, back straight, while addressing the other two men. “Are they some kind of diversion? They can’t have just stumbled upon us and they’re obviously not criminal masterminds. Why didn’t the system alert us to intruders on the premises?” This last question is addressed somewhere in the vicinity behind Dean’s head and he suddenly remembers that there had been another person in the room a few minutes ago, though he had only heard his voice and not seen his face. 

Both Dean and Sam turn their heads to look behind them, attempting to catch a glimpse of who she is speaking to, when the same British accent from earlier speaks up, “I haven’t been able to ascertain why the system didn’t alert us to their presence. It appears to be fully functioning, though their existence here would seem to prove otherwise.” The man – is that a man, Dean wonders – walks forward until he’s in front of the sofa but still off to the side and apart from the trio. He’s human in shape but of course that can mean very little, any Hunter could tell you that. He’s wearing an expensive-looking black suit but his skin is the bright, deep red of an heirloom tomato and he seems to be wearing some sort of brace on parts of his head and neck, matte grey in color with a dimly glowing yellow stone in the middle of his forehead.

“What the hell are you supposed to be,” Dean asks the man. He’s personally thinking some sort of demon – though Dean’s never known the evil sons-of-bitches to look like that – but he can’t yet rule out angel, the guy’s got an ethereal quality about him that Dean can’t quite place. 

“I am Vision. I am neither man, nor machine, though I possess the qualities of both. I am something new.” The man gives this answer with such a calm and understated demeanor that Dean is starting to think that maybe he hadn’t woken up after all. Maybe he’s still asleep and dreaming, and if that’s the case Dean hopes that events will hurry along and progress like most of his non-hellish dreams so he can get to the good part, hopefully featuring Mr. Universe and far fewer clothes. Though if that’s the case, Dean wonders why Sam is here. He doesn’t have anything against a bit of exhibitionism but having sex in front of his brother is where he draws the line. 

“Yeah, ok Big Red,” Dean says, “Why don’t you tell us something useful, like where the hell we are and what we have to do to get out of here.” 

“You really don’t know where you are,” asks Other Sam. 

Dean widens his eyes and cocks his head a bit as if to say, _obviously dude, that’s what we’ve been telling you, repeatedly_ , before Mr. Universe seems to decide to move things along with, “You’re at the Avengers compound. I’m Steve Rogers, this is Sam Wilson and Natasha Romonav, Vision you’ve already met. We have the best security system known to man and you two show up out of the blue, uninvited and armed, so you’ll excuse us if we aren’t itching to acquiesce to your demands without any explanation as to exactly who you are and why you’re here.” 

“Avengers,” Sam says, mostly to himself. He gets that sort of faraway look in his eye that Dean knows means he’s sifting through that gigantic brain of his to come up with an answer to some question he’s asking himself. It’s the same look he gets when they’re working a case that they haven’t yet figured out and he’s trying to remember some obscure bit of lore that might help. 

Dean gives him a moment to process whatever thought he’s having before asking, “Sound familiar?” Sam gives a slight shake of his head so Dean continues with, “What are we thinkin’ here? Demons? Some sort of God? Personally, I’d put my money on angels. This situation reeks of those feathery dicks.” 

“Hey, Pretty Boy. Focus,” Natasha barks out as she quickly steps forward and slaps Dean upside the head. “What are you talking about? Demons? Angels? Are they speaking in code?” This last is directed at Steve and Other Sam, who both seem a bit confused and also like they may be starting to lose patience with this whole situation. 

“Did I hear someone say demon,” a new, drawling female voice speaks out from the mouth of the open hallway, causing all heads to turn in her direction. The woman – or maybe ‘girl’ would be a more accurate label, Dean thinks. She doesn’t look to be older than her late teens – is of medium height with a slight build, long auburn hair and green eyes. She’s wearing tight black pants and knee-high black boots with a blood-red corset and a matching, form-fitting knee-length leather jacket. There’s something familiar about the crooked smirk on her face though as she fixes her gaze on Dean and continues, “Hey there, Dean-O, fancy meetin’ you here.” 

She closes her eyes momentarily and tips her face slightly down, opening them again to show how they’re now completely obscured by glossy black, before she’s blinking again and they’ve returned to normal, the pale olive of her irises peering out through thick lashes. 

Most of the occupants of the room don’t seem surprised by her arrival, but they do seem a bit thrown off by her words, and the quick flash of those black eyes appears to have put them all on their guard. Dean glances around, quickly scanning their faces before fixing a sneer on his own and returning his gaze to the girl. He feels Sam square his shoulders next to him while Dean leans forward in his seat, planting both feet firmly on the ground, the left just a bit ahead of the right, as he prepares to launch himself forward. “Meg.”


	2. Angels and Arc Reactors

“What have you done with them, Raphael?” Castiel stands his ground, fists curled tightly at his sides, a simmering rage causing them to shake. 

It has been quite some time since Castiel last prayed to his father. God may have brought him back after his run-in with Lucifer, but he’s made it pretty clear that his children are on their own, so Castiel has learned to trust his own judgement and not expect help from his absentee dad. That being said… when he had received the prayer from Bobby saying that the Winchesters were missing, he couldn’t help but pray that he would be able to find them, safe and unharmed. Then one of Raphael’s minions had turned up with a message from the archangel demanding that Castiel show up in heaven if he ever wanted to see Dean and Sam again. 

He knows that this is most likely a trap, but Castiel had to come anyway. Sam is his friend, and Dean is… well, Castiel would never forgive himself if something were to happen to Dean and he hadn’t even tried to stop it. Just the thought of never seeing Dean again gives him a swooping sensation in his gut that he hadn’t even known he was capable of feeling as an angel. 

“Castiel… I knew that you would come.” The archangel’s vessel has changed since Balthazar used the heavenly weapon to turn him into a pile of salt, but Castiel would recognize his big brother’s grace no matter the wrappings. “You know, for someone who claims to be willing to stop at nothing to win this war, you sure seem eager to drop everything for a couple of pathetic mud monkeys.” 

“If you’ve hurt them…” Without conscious thought, Castiel feels his angel blade drop into his hand. Logically he knows that he’s no match for the archangel right now, but logic has nothing to do with what Castiel is feeling – the burning rage and crippling fear growing stronger with every moment that passes in which Dean’s not in his sight. 

He advances a few paces, blade at the ready, before stopping directly in front of Raphael, eyes narrowed and shoulders squared, prepared to give it his all. 

“Relax,” the archangel commands, “The Winchesters are alive… for now at least.” 

“What is that supposed to mean? Where are they?!” The knot in his chest loosens slightly with the knowledge that the boys are still alive but the list of awful things that Raphael could have done to them is endless so Castiel tightens his grip on the blade while awaiting his answer. 

“I knew that you were fond of those denim-clad buffoons, but I hadn’t realized the depth of your infatuation until your most recent debacle… Are the lives of these two men really worth fifty thousand souls?” Castiel privately thinks that there is no amount of souls that would be worth Dean’s life but he wisely keeps that thought to himself. He figures the question was rhetorical anyway as Raphael continues with, “The weapons, Castiel, I want them. And if you ever want to see the Winchesters again, you’ll give them to me.” 

The demand comes as no surprise; the only surprise is that he hasn’t tried something like this sooner. Castiel hates himself for not keeping a closer eye on the boys but Atropos was right – he just can’t watch them every second of every day. He’s trying to decide if there’s any way that he might get Dean to agree to being confined to a heavily warded room for the remainder of the war when he remembers that he’ll have to get him back first if he’s going to even be able to try. “Where are they?!”

“I’ve sent them away.” Castiel squints his eyes even harder at this ominous statement. Away? He’s starting to get a really bad feeling about this, and that’s saying something considering how bad this whole situation had him feeling to begin with. “Let’s just say that when Balthazar introduced the Winchesters to the concept of universe hopping, I got inspired.” 

That swooping sensation is back with a vengeance and Castiel is already mentally rehearsing what he’s going to have to say to get Balthazar to go along with handing the weapons over to Raphael. His friend may be trusting but he’s never understood Castiel’s relationship with the Winchesters. He doesn’t want to have to hurt him, but if it comes down to a choice between Balthazar and Dean, Castiel knows who he’ll choose – He won’t even hesitate. 

“Alright.” Castiel lifts his chin and pulls himself up to his full height, stowing his blade as he continues his acquiescence, “I will require two hours to retrieve the weapons, then I will return here where I expect Dean and Sam to be waiting for me.” 

“No,” Raphael responds, “I don’t believe that will work for me… My conditions are as follows – I will give you the two hours to collect the weapons, after which you will return here and place them at my feet. Then, and only then, will I give you instructions as to how to go about finding the Winchesters – whether you are successful in retrieving them is entirely up to you. Take it or leave it, Castiel, I think we both know which one of us has more riding on this outcome.” 

Castiel contemplates trying to negotiate further but ultimately decides against it. He has no idea which universe the Winchesters have been sent to and the clock is ticking. He also doesn’t trust that Raphael won’t hurt them if he is the one to retrieve them instead. Steeling himself for the upcoming conversation with Balthazar, Castiel gives one final nod in Raphael’s direction and disappears with a susurrus of wings. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“In the flesh, Deany-boy,” Meg says, lifting a hand and tipping her face to the side, giving herself a slow once-over before dropping it again and turning her attention back to Dean. “Well, in someone’s flesh, anyway.” 

“Meg? Who’s Meg? Wanda, what’s going on?” Dean glances toward the sound of Steve’s voice to see that the trio of hotness have all shifted their stances, mirroring the Winchesters’ readiness – Steve taking point, Other Sam and Natasha flanking him. The men are unarmed but Natasha is holding Ruby’s knife in her left hand. She keeps shifting her gaze between Meg and the Winchesters, clearly the least trusting of the three, and Dean can’t help thinking that she’d probably make a pretty good Hunter. 

“That’s not your friend right now,” Dean tells Steve, “She’s being possessed by an absolute bitch of a demon named Meg.” 

“Oh Dean, you really know how to complement a girl, don’t ya?” Meg takes a few steps forward, bringing herself fully into the room.

The trio responds by moving forward as well and Dean watches in awe as Vision’s suit appears to vanish, revealing a skin-tight grey number underneath, complete with a golden cape. And here Dean thought that he’d seen it all at this point in his life – looks like he was wrong. 

Sam gives Dean a silent nod and they both get to their feet, moving to place themselves between Meg and the locals. Dean’s facing Meg but he glances over his shoulder as he addresses the group. “I know you have no reason to believe us but this is a demon and if you want to stand a chance against her you need to trust us.”

“It’s true. We’re Hunters. We’ve been fighting demons our whole lives. That knife that you’re holding is even a special demon-killing knife.” True-to-form, Sam is speaking softly, talking to the tense crowd like a group of scared children. 

“Sure you are,” Says Natasha, “And I’m Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Now get out of my way before I make you.” Sam sighs noisily and turns back to Dean with an exasperated look on his face. Dean thinks his frustration is completely understandable, given that he’s about two seconds away from losing his shit as well. This whole situation is beyond ridiculous and Dean’s beginning to consider just letting Meg at these fools, but besides the fact that they’re human (well, at least most of them seem to be) and he’s pretty much made it his mission in life to save as many humans as possible, Dean’s got a personal beef with Meg for various reasons and he’ll be damned if he lets her get her hands on Steve – it would be a crying shame if she killed him before Dean was even able to attempt to get him into bed. 

Natasha advances on Sam and Dean, knife held at the ready, so the brothers retreat back to the sofa until the backs of their legs are hitting the edge, causing them to sit down again. It’s at this point that Vision approaches Meg, floating across the floor instead of walking like a normal person, and yeah, Dean is officially freaked out by this guy now. “Wanda, talk to us. Do you know these men? Why are you speaking this way?” 

Dean takes the opportunity of Meg’s distraction to lean over and whisper, “Exorcism,” in Sam’s ear. Sam gives a slight nod to Dean before turning back to face Meg.

He proceeds to speak the words that he’s known by heart for years now, “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas…” Meg’s head snaps around to face the brothers, eyes widening. She lifts her hand to point it at Sam before closing her fist, causing Sam’s voice to cut off, and Dean knows he’d be clutching his throat if his hands weren’t bound behind his back. 

Dean picks up where Sam left off, continuing on with, “Omnis incursion, infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica…” Meg shifts her gaze to Dean, lowering her hand – and with it her power over Sam, causing him to cough and start breathing again. She tilts her head a bit and seems to be contemplating something but she doesn’t appear to be in any pain – it’s like she isn’t being affected at all by the words that he’s speaking. “…Ergo draco maledicte, et omnis legio diabolica adjuramus te. Cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque aeternae Perditionis venenum propinare…”

“You might as well stop, Dean. Exorcisms don’t seem to work here,” she says. Dean had had the feeling that there was something extra unusual about this place. If the flying red freak-bot wasn’t enough to convince him, the impotent exorcism is really driving it on home. Wherever they are it isn’t their world and Dean automatically thinks of Cas, remembering the last time that this happened (when Dean had spent three days being Jensen Ackles) and how he hadn’t been able to reach Cas while he was there. Meg’s demon powers still seem to work though so they can’t be in the same universe as they had been before. 

Dean’s pretty sure that Steve is thinking, ‘enough is enough’, now because he’s striding toward Meg purposefully, saying in an authoritative manner, “I don’t know what’s going on right now but I think it would be for the best if we move this little chat to the holding cells. Vision, why don’t you escort Wanda? Until we get this all figured out, it’s for your own safety, Wanda.” 

Before Vision has a chance to take hold of her arm, Meg is using her demon powers to knock both him and Steve across the room. Dean had expected it, of course he had, but what he hadn’t expected was the red aura that surrounded her push – it was nothing that he’d ever seen before and it even seemed to take Meg somewhat by surprise. 

“Cap! You ok?” Natasha and Other Sam are both rushing toward Meg as Dean and Sam jump back to their feet. Dean’s been trying to wiggle his way out of the bindings on his wrists for as long as he’s been awake, but he can’t even figure out what kind they are. He thinks they may be some sort of handcuffs (they feel like they’re metal) but he can’t feel any key holes and they have absolutely no give. He feels so helpless not being able to punch anything and a quick glance at Sam tells Dean that he’s feeling the same. 

Dean looks back toward Meg just in time to see Other Sam being blasted back, joining Steve and Vision on the other side of the room. Natasha is more nimble and she’s wicked fast too so she manages to get close enough to Meg to twist around and grab her from behind, holding Ruby’s knife up to her throat. “I don’t want to hurt you but you aren’t leaving me much of a choice,” Natasha says – and yeah, Dean thinks, definitely Hunter material. 

“That’s ok,” Meg responds, “Lucky for me, I don’t have a problem with hurting you.” She grabs Natasha’s arm and it’s obvious to Dean that she isn’t expecting the amount of strength that she’s met with as Meg twists the knife out of her hand and quickly turns around, proceeding to plunge the blade into Natasha’s gut. Natasha falls to the floor, clutching the handle, and Meg turns back to face the room at large. 

Steve, Other Sam, and Vision have recovered and are all starting to advance on Meg again, so she holds up both hands and pushes that red aura at them again, stopping them all in their tracks. Vision manages to break free and flies toward Meg. He’s closing in fast but suddenly Meg curls in on herself, then she’s flinging her arms wide and loosing a huge blast of that red aura directly at Vision’s chest, causing him to rocket through the huge glass wall and outside – God only knows to what distance away. 

Dean and Sam figure they’ve got nothing left to lose at this point so they attempt to rush Meg, even with their hands still bound behind their backs, only to have her freeze them in place like the other two men. Dean finds himself supremely pissed at the thought that he’s about to be killed by Meg, of all people (and not even in his own universe), but apparently she has other plans because instead of widespread carnage she’s pulling herself up to her full height and addressing them all like she’s the freakin’ Queen of Sheba. “I could kill you all, but I don’t think I will… not yet at least. I think I like this universe. I know I like this body.” She looks around the room going from face to face before landing on Dean with her trademark smirk. “I’ve always been more of a follower, you know? Never really had ambition to play more than just a supporting role.” 

Dean sneers at her and feels rage curl in his chest because he has a feeling that he knows where she’s headed with this… and he’s proven right when she continues with, “I have power here, Dean. I can be more than just one of Lucifer’s lackeys. I can be in charge. I never thought that I wanted that but who knows? Maybe it’ll work for me. And what fun would it be if there was no one around who knew how far I’d come?” She saunters forward, coming to a stop in front of Dean and runs her fingers through his hair in accurate imitation of Natasha’s movements from earlier. She also grabs hold of the short strands and yanks his head back, only instead of a punch to the throat she kisses him on the mouth (Dean privately thinks that he’d preferred the punch to the throat), before stepping back. “See you around, Dean-O.” And with a quick wink she’s gone, the four men all falling slightly forward before catching themselves as her hold on them drops. 

Right away, Steve and Other Sam rush forward, dropping to their knees in front of Natasha. She’s still alive but she’s not looking good, pale and sweating with blood beginning to pool around her on the floor. Dean and Sam exchange glances, not really knowing what they should do now. They wouldn’t really be able to help her even if they were capable of using their hands. 

“Natasha, just hold on,” Steve pleads, whipping off his white t-shirt to try to staunch the flow of blood. “Sam, help me! We have to get her to the medical wing. Is there a doctor on the premises or do we need to call someone in?” He’s starting to look a bit frantic and Dean has the feeling that this isn’t a usual state of being for the man. 

“Steve,” Natasha whispers. Her voice is weak and her eyelids are beginning to droop. Dean can tell that she’s trying to fight, her hands are trembling but she hasn’t given up yet. Most others would be dead already but Dean can tell that this woman isn’t like most others. “I don’t think I’m going to make it to the medical wing.” 

“Nonsense. I won’t hear talk like that,” Steve tells her, “We’re going to get you help and you’re going to be fine. Damn it!” Steve puts his head in his hands momentarily before quickly tugging on his hair and then lifting his head back up to look at her. 

“Language,” Natasha says, a small smile on her face. Steve returns the smile but squeezes his eyes shut, a choked off sob escaping his throat. He leans down and presses their foreheads together gently, a precious moment of stillness before a loud crash of thunder and showers of sparks from the overhead light fixtures have them jerking apart. 

Dean would recognize that dramatic entrance anywhere so he spins on his heel, looking around frantically before his gaze lands on Castiel, their eyes locked together like they’re the only ones in the room… the only ones on the planet. “Dean…” Just that one word and relief floods through Dean’s body so fast that he feels a little woozy, swaying just slightly where he stands. 

Before he can manage any sort of response, Sam is rushing toward Cas, drawing his attention away from Dean. “Cas! It’s so good to see you, you don’t even know. Hurry!” He gestures with a nod of his head toward Natasha, wordlessly urging Cas to follow him as he runs over to the woman. “She was stabbed by Ruby’s knife. Can you heal her?”

Cas takes a moment to assess the situation. He notices the restraints on the Winchester’s wrists and breaks the bindings with a single wave of his hand before dropping to one knee next to Natasha. Dean rubs his wrists, alternating right to left, while he watches Cas swiftly pull the blade from Natasha’s body and instantly cover up the wound with his right hand. Steve looks like he’s about to try to yank Cas away from the woman so Dean lays a restraining hand on his shoulder and softly says, “Let him help.” 

A bright golden light is seeping out of from between Cas’s fingers as the group watches. It only takes a few moments before the healing is complete and Cas sits back on his heel, glancing up to where Dean’s hand is still resting on Steve’s bare shoulder. He lets his gaze rest on this sight for several long seconds before turning a stony glare on Dean and rising to his feet. “We should go.” 

Dean removes his hand from Steve’s shoulder as he watches Cas stride away from the group. “Cas, wait!” Cas turns back around to give his attention to Dean, one eyebrow slightly raised as he waits for him to continue. “We can’t leave yet.” 

Cas lets his eyes slide from Dean’s face to where Steve is kneeling on the floor, helping Natasha rise up to a sitting position, before returning his gaze back to Dean. “And why not?” 

Dean furrows his brows, wondering why Cas is acting so cold all of a sudden but before he has a chance to comment on it Sam is butting in with, “Meg is here.” Cas shifts his gaze to Sam and squints his eyes as he tilts his head – and there it is, damn him… that fucking confused bird look that he gets so often. And Dean’s response to it is Pavlovian at this point, a soft clench in the vicinity of his heart that happens Every. Damn. Time. “She’s possessing a girl named Wanda who apparently has some sort of special abilities and she said that she wants to be in charge like Lucifer. She’s out in the world somewhere right now and we have to help stop her.” 

Dean takes a moment to glance over to the trio. Steve and Other Sam are helping Natasha over to the sofa but she seems to be fine now, just a little shaken and a lot bloody. Steve pulls a cell phone out of his pocket and pokes at it a few times before bringing it up to his ear. It only takes a second before the other person is answering and Steve is speaking. “Tony, hey, we’ve got a situation here at the compound. I know that you’re retired but we’re really going to need you on this.” He listens for a moment while the other person speaks, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand. “Thank you, Tony. Oh, and Tony… put on the suit.” 

Dean thinks that that was a bit weird as far as parting shots go but whatever, maybe it’s an inside joke or something. He then realizes that his eyes are still lingering on Steve’s naked chest when he remembers that Sam and Cas are probably waiting for him to contribute to the conversation in some way. When he looks back, Cas is glaring at him again and Sam’s sporting one of his famous bitchfaces, this one saying something like – _What the hell, Dean? It’s not like we’re trying to have a super fucking important conversation here or anything. Just go ahead and keep ogling the beautiful man-chest, we’ll wait._ – Jesus, Sam’s bitchfaces can be really fucking sarcastic. 

“As I was saying…” Sam turns his face back to look at Cas as he continues, “However she got here, it’s probably our fault. We can’t just leave her here to run amok. We have to help.” 

Cas keeps his stony glare on Dean the whole time that Sam is talking, only turning to look at him once he stops. “I’m sorry, Sam, but we must return. In order for Raphael to agree to tell me how to retrieve you I had to give him the heavenly weapons that Balthazar stole. I must return to our world and figure out a way to get them back.” 

Raphael… Dean should have known that that feathery bastard was behind this. But what’s done is done, Dean supposes. The weapons are already lost but Meg is still on the loose. Dean can’t just fuck off back to their universe and leave the poor saps here to deal with that shit alone. “I’m staying.”

“Dean…”

“Look, Cas, Sam is right. Meg is our responsibility. We’re the best equipped to handle her and besides… that bitch has it coming and I want to be the one to give to her.” Cas doesn’t look convinced, he’s still glaring at Dean as Steve walks up to stand beside him in all his shirt-less glory.

“Excuse me, Cas, was it?” Cas shifts his death-glare over to Steve’s face and Dean secretly thinks that if looks could smite, Steve would be a pile of ash on the floor right now. “My name is Steve Rogers.” He takes a step forward and holds out his right hand to Cas who just looks at it like maybe Steve is a demon who’s offering to give him a hand job or something – disgusted and haughty just about seem to cover it. “Anyway…” Steve drops his hand and glances at Dean with a confused look on his face. Dean just shrugs his shoulders and gives Steve a slight shake of his head as if to convey – _I have no idea what his problem is._ —so Steve just keeps going. “We’ve fought some strange characters in our day but demons are new to us. You all seem pretty knowledgeable, not to mention skilled, and we could really use your help with this. I still have no idea how you healed Natasha but that kind of skill-set could be unparalleled in its usefulness.” 

Steve is spared from Cas’s response (and also from having his eyes burned out of his head, if Dean is reading the situation correctly) by the arrival of a flying metal man who enters through the broken window and lands with a loud clank in front of those standing. Dean and Sam and Cas all shift into a slight crouch, Cas’s angel blade dropping into his hand as they face the potential threat.

“No, no! It’s ok! He’s with us,” Steve says, placing a hand on Dean’s shoulder. It’s meant to be a calming gesture and it seems to work on Dean and Sam, the brothers straightening up again and loosening their fists. But if anything, Cas’s demeanor seems to get even more threatening as he squares his shoulders and tightens his hold on his blade. 

The metal man has straightened up out of his crouch and the faceplate on his suit (‘put on the suit’ – Dean understands now – this must be Tony) opens up revealing a handsome face with dark hair and dark eyes, facial hair trimmed stylistically around his mouth. “Hey there, Constantine, how about you put down the pointy stick there so I don’t have to get blasty.” 

Cas remains quiet, scowl deepening on his face and blade at the ready. Dean doesn’t know how long he can go about looking that murdery without actually attempting to kill someone so he decides to take action, stepping up to Cas and placing a hand on his arm to try to calm him, shaking his head slightly when Cas turns to look at him questioningly. “Dial down the smite-face, Cas.” Dean shifts his gaze to the newcomer and continues with, “Look, man, he’s an angel. You can get as ‘blasty’ as you want and it’s not going to make a difference. Besides, we’re all on the same side here.” 

“Angel, huh?” His skepticism is obvious but he relaxes his posture (as much as he’s able to in the metal contraption) and turns to address Steve. “So what’s the story, Cap? Did you call me over just to show me the property damage and have your new friend here scowl me to death?”

“I am _not_ his friend…” The expression on Cas’s face doesn’t change but he does straighten up a bit and stow his blade. 

Both Steve and Tony seem a bit taken aback by Cas’s vehemence. They share a surprised look before Natasha and Other Sam approach the group and Natasha speaks up. “Something is possessing Wanda. She blasted Vision off to who knows where and that was after stabbing me in the gut.” Tony looks down to Natasha’s middle, taking in all the blood and the gaping slash in her shirt before looking back up with a confused tilt of his head. “The angry trench coat guy showed up and healed me with a ball of light.” She gives a slight shrug at the end of this sentence, acting for all the world as if shit like this is just business as usual, and yeah, Dean thinks he may have just found his new best friend. 

Now that everyone seems a bit more inclined to believe him, Dean decides to just jump in with the cold hard facts, repeating some pertinent information for Tony’s benefit. “My name is Dean Winchester. This is my brother Sam…” He gestures to Sam who gives a single wave of his hand and then Dean’s pointing to Cas, “… and this is Castiel. He’s an angel. Your friend is being possessed by a demon named Meg and we’ve all come here from a different universe.” Again, Dean is surprised by the group’s apparent lack of surprise and he’s wondering what kind of shit these people get up to if news like this is commonplace. 

“So how do we stop her,” Other Sam asks. 

“We don’t know yet,” Sam says. “The exorcism didn’t work and that’s never happened before.” He directs this last statement at Cas who is looking a little less smitey but still not completely calm.

“There is no Hell in this world,” Cas says. “No Heaven either… at least not the ones that we’re familiar with. The exorcism didn’t work because there’s nowhere to banish her to. The fact that our powers work at all is surprising. There must be other forms of magic here which enables them to do so.” 

“What about that knife,” Other Sam asks. “You said that it was a special demon-killing knife.”

“It is,” Sam replies. “But if we use the knife on Meg, it will kill Wanda too. Is that a sacrifice that you’re willing to make?” 

The four friends all look to each other as they take in this news, then Steve glances down at the floor momentarily before looking back up to the Winchesters. “Let’s save that as a last resort. There’s got to be other things that we can try first.” 

“There may be a spell,” Cas replies grudgingly. “I’ll have to think about it and look to see if this world has any pertinent lore or available ingredients.” 

“Can’t you just hop on back to our universe and pick up the necessary crap and then hop on back over here? Or for that matter, can’t we just bring Meg back with us, exorcise the shit out of her, and then bring Wanda back here,” Dean asks. 

“No, Dean, I can’t just ‘hop on back’,” Cas says in a condescending manner, complete with finger quotes. “Raphael made it so that a being can only come here once and return once. If I go back I won’t ever be able to return, and if the two of you don’t accompany me on the return journey, you’ll be stuck here permanently.” 

“Shit. Ok, then. Sam, you and Cas are on lore duty.” Then turning to Steve, “Steve, we’re going to need to find Meg. You guys look like you have some pretty good technology here…” At that, Other Sam just snorts as Tony lets out an indignant squawk. 

“’Pretty good’?! I’ll have you know that Stark technology is the most advanced in the world. Give me five minutes and I’ll be able to find her… ‘pretty good’...” Tony is shaking his head like he’s never heard something so absurd in his life and all of a sudden the metal suit is opening up and the man himself steps out like a butterfly emerging from a particularly flashy chrysalis. He then pulls out what looks like a piece of glass, about the size of a cell phone, and proceeds to tap at it with one finger. Suddenly, he flicks the glass in front of him, causing a holographic image to appear mid-air. Dean has no idea what to make of the numbers and words that are scrolling away but one look at Sam’s bulging eyes and drop-jawed expression tells him that Dean may not be the only Winchester to have found a kindred spirit here. “Friday, contact me to Vision.” 

“Right away, Mr. Stark.” Dean jumps slightly at the disembodied female voice and whips his head all around the room trying to find its source. One glance at Sam and Cas shows Dean that the two men are doing the same. 

Tony takes pity on the boys’ confused countenances and explains, “Friday is a natural-language user interface. She has no actual physical form. You won’t find her by looking around.” 

Before Tony’s call is able to get through to Vision, the man (cyborg? Dean still isn’t sure) himself is flying through the wall (like, the actual wall, not the big gaping hole) and softly landing on his feet. “Hey, just in time, buddy. Come join the party!” Tony returns his gaze to Steve and says, “So that’s one more Avenger accounted for, where’s Barton and Rhodey?” 

“The War Machine is on loan to the pentagon at the moment and Barton is at home visiting his family,” Steve responds.

“Alright. Well, let’s leave Rhodey out of it for now but Nat, call Legolas and tell him that it’s time to make the trek back to Mt. Doom so he needs to get his spritely ass back here.” She gives a quick nod and pulls a cell phone out of her pocket before bringing it up to her ear and walking away, presumably to contact this ‘Barton’.

“Mr. Stark?” Tony shifts his gaze to focus on Sam as he continues, “Could you tell us where we can access the internet? We have some research that we need to do.” 

“Sure thing. Why don’t you follow me to my lab?” Tony closes out the holographic screen and gestures at Sam and Cas to follow him. 

Sam hastens to follow but Cas hesitates, his gaze lingering on Dean as Steve turns toward other Sam and says, “Sam, would you please update Maria Hill on what happened here today? Dean, why don’t you come with me? I’d like you to tell me all you know about this demon and I’m sure that you probably have a few questions for us as well.” 

“Yeah. Absolutely,” Dean responds. He spares one last look over to Cas, the angel’s gaze still narrowed on Dean, before turning away to follow Steve out of the room.


	3. Super-Beings Have Urges Too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that the rating has now changed to Explicit. I hope this doesn't put too many people off but this is always the way that I intended this story to go. Take note of the additional tags as well... Here comes the smut! Enjoy!

“Hey, your heavenly grumpiness… are you coming?” Castiel shifts his glare to Tony when he hears the man speak. He looks back again but Dean and Steve have already disappeared down the corridor and out of sight so he sighs and turns to follow Tony and Sam, walking with his head down like a sullen toddler. 

They follow Tony in silence across a covered walkway that is suspended in the air and linking the two buildings. A short walk later has them arriving at a laboratory, all metal and glass, with eerie blue and white lighting. There’s robotic arms stationed in several places and additional robotic-looking parts scattered on a few surfaces. 

“Systems on,” Tony says, and immediately there are images popping up on the glass panels all over the room. “You two can use that console for your research.” Tony points them to a large glass panel on one side of the room before moving onto the other side of the room where several glass panels are situated side-by-side. He begins to tap at one of the panels, seemingly ignoring the other two men completely. 

Castiel feels a bit suspicious about the advanced technology and wonders if there’s any magic that is supplying the power. Sam doesn’t seem concerned though so he just follows the taller man over to the console and contents himself to watch Sam try to figure out the contraption. Sam seems a bit hesitant but after sneaking a glace over to see how Tony is tapping away on the glass he puts a finger to a keyboard icon on the screen and hopes that it will connect to some sort of search engine. Luck seems to be with him because after a quick search of ‘demon lore’, a bunch of websites pop up on the screen. 

“Ok, Cas, what exactly are we searching for? I wish we had access to all of Bobby’s books right about now. Hell, I wish we had Bobby right about now.” Castiel nods his head in agreement to Sam’s statements.

“I believe that I remember coming across a spell that would kill a demon without injuring the host. I have never attempted this method myself because our way of killing demons has always been deemed acceptable,” Castiel explains.

“And what way is that?” Castiel jumps a bit in surprise at Tony’s question, asked from just behind the angel. He had thought that the man was across the room ignoring them.

“Aren’t you supposed to be searching for the abomination,” Castiel asks, irritated at being surprised. 

“I am.” Tony points to the wall of glass screens, all showing numbers and graphs that Castiel can’t even begin to understand. “So what is the usual method for angels killing demons?”

“Smiting.” Tony’s eyes grow comically wide for a moment before narrowing back to normal again while he steps back to lean against a table, arms folded over his chest and one foot crossed over the other. “Since our usual methods seem useless or unacceptable at the present time, this spell may be our only option of getting rid of Meg while saving your friend’s life. Unfortunately, I can’t seem to recall exactly where I’ve seen the spell written. You’ll have to search for the usual lore books, Sam.” 

“Gotcha.” Sam turns back to the screen and starts tapping away, pulling up locations of all the lore books that he can recall. For the next several minutes Castiel just stands there, watching what Sam is pulling up on the screen and occasionally turning one eye in Tony’s direction, expecting the man to… well he doesn’t know exactly what he expects him to do but just standing there isn’t it. His attention is pulled back to Sam when the other man asks in almost a whisper, “Cas… why did you do it?” 

Castiel cocks his head, confused. “Do what, Sam?”

“Why did you give Raphael the heavenly weapons just to bring us back? I mean, you’re fighting a civil war. We’re just a couple of humans, why did you bother?” Sam sounds truly curious and a little like he’s expecting to be scolded for asking but he still has his attention on the screen like he’s at least attempting feigning nonchalance. Castiel can also tell that Tony is just as interested in his response, though he can’t imagine why. 

Castiel takes a minute to come up with an acceptable response. He knows that he can’t give the real reason, at least not all of it. He can’t tell Sam, ‘Well, Sam, I gave Raphael the weapons because there’s not a thing in all of creation that I wouldn’t have given to get Dean back. I would have given my own life, my own grace to save your brother, and you too of course because it would kill Dean to lose you and I would spare him that pain if at all possible.’ That much honesty may lead to awkward questions though so instead he says, “You and your brother are my friends, Sam. And you’re mixed up in this whole situation because of that fact so obviously I thought it my duty to rescue you. It was my fault that you were sent here, it must be me who brings you back, and the only way for me to do that was to hand over the weapons.” 

“So let me get this straight…” Castiel turns to face Tony again when the man speaks up. “You’re an angel – wings, grace, smiting powers, the whole shebang – and you’re willing to risk losing an entire war just because you felt duty-bound to fix a little mistake? It seems like there’s more to this little story than you’re telling us. Couldn’t have something to do with a certain green-eyed lumberjack, could it?” Castiel narrows his eyes threateningly at Tony before he continues. “Don’t act like you weren’t bitten by the green-eyed monster back there – and I don’t mean the Hulk – I saw the way you looked at him. And what’s more, I saw the way you looked at Steve like you wanted to shove that pointy stick of yours right through his heart when he had his hand on Dean.”

“I have no idea what you mean.” Castiel turns back to the screen, noticing that Sam is doing his best to act like his ears don’t work, only his eyes, as he squints at the screen like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen in his life. 

“Sure you don’t,” Tony says, as he walks back over to his row of monitors. “Just tell me honestly that you wouldn’t rather Dean be here right now than off with Steve in his bedroom.” 

Castiel is still diligently staring at Sam’s monitor but he can’t help the images that pop up in his mind – Steve with his hand on Dean’s arm, perhaps even his waist. He may even be kissing him right now. Castiel saw the way that Dean was staring at the other man’s naked chest. The hunter has never been one to waste time when he discovered a willing conquest… But he has never shown interest in men before… at least, not while Castiel has been around to observe his sexual escapades. Up to this point, Castiel has forced himself to show no signs of jealousy, no signs of longing when in Dean’s presence. He thought that the hunter was entirely heterosexual and as such would never be attracted to a male vessel. But if this isn’t true, if Dean actually is attracted to members of the same gender, it makes Castiel feel even worse. Is there something wrong with him? Is he not attractive to Dean? Or is it because he’s an angel? These are all questions that he’s never stopped to think about before but now seeing Dean showing interest in another man has Castiel feeling hurt, the hurt only surpassed by the seething jealousy that he feels toward this other man. 

Castiel clenches his fists as he stares unseeingly at the screen, trying his best to banish the images from his mind and focus on the task at hand. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So you and your brother stopped the apocalypse?” Steve throws Dean an incredulous look over his shoulder as they walk down another hallway.

Dean has taken advantage of the long walk through the building to bring Steve up to speed on all the pertinent supernatural details to their current situation. “Well… me, my brother, the angel you met back there, a Hunter named Bobby, and a demon named Crowley… but yeah, basically.” 

“Wait… so you are friends with demons too?” Steve looks confused as he stops in front of a closed door. 

“Well, I wouldn’t say ‘friends’ exactly, more a case of a temporary truce made in an attempt to avoid mutually assured destruction.” Dean gives a bit of a shrug and puts his hands, palm up, to his sides in a gesture that says, ‘What can you do?’ Steve just shakes his head slightly as he opens the door and gestures Dean to enter before him. 

“So… this is my room,” he says, giving a shrug of his own and sweeping his hand around the spacious bedroom. It’s almost identical to the one that Dean woke up in this morning but it feels more lived in. There are a couple of vintage posters of baseball teams and players on the walls and a really old record player in one corner. In another corner is a desk that’s piled with notebooks and what looks like artist’s supplies – bits of charcoal and colored pencils, erasers and sharpeners. Finally, Dean’s eyes land on a uniform, hanging on a large hook on one wall, red, white, and blue in color with belts and straps, a pair of gloves and what looks like a hood hanging down the back. Mounted on the wall next to the uniform is a large circular metal shield, red, white, and blue like the uniform, with a large white star in the middle. Dean’s eyes widen and his jaw drops open at the sight of the uniform and the shield, memories of some very enthusiastic role-playing causing heat to flash over his skin and his cock to give a slight twitch in his pants. 

He shifts self-consciously and clears his throat before returning to face Steve. “It’s very nice! What’s with the costume? Big fan of Halloween? You into LARPing or something? ‘Cause I have this friend… calls herself ‘the Queen of Moons’… I was actually her handmaiden once…” Dean trails off when Steve starts to give him a confused look, realizing that he’s rambling like a fool. 

“Actually, it’s a uniform. The ah… the Avengers… we kind of fight crime,” Steve says, almost making it sound like a question. “The big bads, you know, like you guys did with Lucifer. Some of us are enhanced. Tony has the suit… all the technology. Natasha and Clint are highly skilled assassins, well they were anyway. Vision started as an advanced AI but now that he possesses the power of the mind stone he’s stronger and more advanced than all of us. Wanda, as you saw, has telekinetic powers. Sam is ex-military. He also has a set of wings, kinda works like Tony’s suit. And I… well I started out as a science experiment in 1941. Ended up with additional strength and speed… I heal more quickly too.”

“So an honest to God superhero, huh,” Dean, asks with a grin spreading on his face. “Got a fancy superhero name too?” 

“Um… well…” Steve dithers, rubbing a hand up the short hairs on the back of his head, a slight blush spreading across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “They call me Captain America.” Dean widens his eyes slightly, his grin spreading into a full-on toothy smile. “Anyway, I should get changed. I’m pretty covered in blood.”

“Of course,” Dean says, turning away from Steve and wandering aimlessly around the room, looking at the posters and ostensibly giving Steve a modicum of privacy. He’ll leave the room if Steve asks but if he doesn’t… well, no harm in sneaking a quick peek if possible. 

He can hear Steve opening the closet door and rooting around inside so he walks over to the desk to inspect one of the notebooks. Just as Dean reaches a hand out to open the book, a big hand is swooping down to stop him while he hears Steve say, “Don’t!” And then in a calmer voice, “Please… I don’t often show my work to others. I… I like to keep it private.” 

Dean turns to apologize but the words get stuck in his throat. Steve is standing so close to him, one hand on his, his bare chest molded to Dean’s side. He looks up from staring at Steve’s bare skin to peer into his eyes. “S-sorry, man. It won’t happen again.” Then looking back down he notices that the man is now clad only in a pair of dark blue boxer-briefs, dried-on blood covering large parts of his body. “You know, you might want to take a shower. Wash all that blood off.” Dean looks back to Steve’s face, extracting his hand from under the other man’s and running it down Steve’s bulging, blood-spattered bicep. 

Dean watches as Steve licks his lower lip, running his teeth over it as it slips back out, shiny with spit. His eyes are a bit hooded now as they track the motion of Dean’s hand, following up the length of his arm until his gaze rests on Dean’s mouth, his voice a bit husky as he speaks. “You’re probably right.” 

He can see the decision made in the other man’s eyes, but Dean is still a bit surprised when he feels Steve’s lips against his own, a bit hesitant perhaps, but firm and steady, brooking no argument. Dean lets his eyes slip closed – moves his hands to trail down Steve’s well-muscled torso to land on his hips, slanting his head a bit and deepening the kiss. 

Steve wraps one hand around the back of Dean’s shoulder while the other cradles the back of Dean’s head, gentle fingers scraping through the short strands of his hair while he runs his tongue over the seam of Dean’s lips, requesting entry. 

Dean opens his mouth, letting Steve control the movement. He can’t help but let a moan slip out as Steve pulls a bit closer, rolling his hips against Dean’s, the perfect height to rub his sizable erection against Dean’s own. 

Before he has a chance to do anything else, Steve is pulling away, causing Dean to let out an embarrassing whimper at the loss. He opens his eyes to see Steve staring at him, eyes a bit glassy, the black of his pupils beginning to eclipse the bright blue of his irises. “Would you care to join me?” And yeah, Dean is definitely on board with that plan. 

“Lead the way, Captain,” Dean says, giving Steve a quick wink and a trademark smirk. 

Steve gives Dean a smoldering look before attacking his mouth again, yanking him forward to grind their hips together. Then he’s pulling away again just as quickly, this time taking Dean’s hand as he leads him to the attached bathroom. Sweet, Dean thinks, guy’s got some sort of title kink or something – this is going to be awesome! 

When they get to the bathroom, Steve starts up the shower while Dean begins undressing, peeling off his flannel and pulling his t-shirt over his head while simultaneously toeing out of his boots. He’s undoing his belt buckle when Steve turns back to face him, grasping the waistband of his boxer-briefs and slowly pulling them down, making Dean pause in his movements to watch the man’s hard cock spring free from confinement. He’s just staring at it, mouth starting to water a bit, when the sound of Steve’s voice brings his brain back into working order. “Huh,” Dean says, looking back up to Steve’s face. 

“I said, if you’re going to join me you need to take off the rest of your clothes,” Steve responds for at least the second time, if the affectionate head shake is any indication.

“Right! Absolutely!” Dean wastes no time in shucking his jeans, pulling his own boxer-briefs down along with them. Lastly he pulls off his socks and rushes to join Steve in the oversized shower. This one is exactly the same as the one in the other bedroom, big enough for four people, with several shower heads and a built-in bench taking up half of one wall. 

Dean ducks under one shower head, wetting his hair and rinsing his body while Steve does the same on the other side. They both take the time to wash their hair quickly before getting some soap from a dispenser on the wall and hurriedly lathering up their bodies. “Turn around,” Dean says. “I’ll get your back.” Steve faces the shower head, letting the water run over his head and down his body while Dean takes more soap and starts rubbing his hands slowly over the hard planes of Steve’s back. 

He steps in close, letting his erection nestle lightly between Steve’s perfect ass cheeks, the other man groaning softly as he pushes back against Dean. Finishing up washing his back, Dean slides his right hand around Steve’s waist until he reaches his cock, wrapping his hand around the substantial girth. Steve lets out a gasp as Dean begins to stroke, just loosely at first, teasing at what’s to come. 

Dean ruts against Steve slowly, gently kissing the back of his neck while his left hand pinches Steve’s left nipple, right hand gradually increasing the firmness of his hold as he strokes. “Dean… God… That feels…” 

“Feels good, doesn’t it, Cap?” Dean’s taken off guard as Steve growls and turns around quickly, grabbing the back of Dean’s neck and crashing their mouths together. He kisses Dean like it’s his goddamn job and he’s employee of the freaking month, pausing to grip Dean’s thighs and hoist him up. Dean takes the hint and wraps his legs around Steve’s waist while the other man carries him until his back is up against the shower wall. 

Steve removes his lips so that he can nudge Dean’s head up and begins kissing a path downward, sucking a bruise into the side of his neck, just below his jaw. Dean lets out a loud moan at the feel, tilting his hips forward to rub his throbbing erection against Steve’s own hard cock. The electric tingle that shoots up Dean’s spine has him moaning even louder. 

“You like that, Darlin’,” Steve asks, tilting his own hips in answer and licking a stripe from Dean’s collarbone to his jaw. 

Dean whimpers a bit at the endearment, losing himself a little bit more. He’s never had the chance to be with someone so powerful, someone who could dominate him so easily. (Though if he’s honest with himself, he’s wanted it for a long time, dreamt of strong arms holding him down, a gravelly voice whispering praise in his ear, commanding him to submit.) 

“Yes! Fuck… yes… touch me, Cap. Grab my cock with that big hand of yours. I want you to make me come.” Steve growls again and licks his hand, bringing it down to wrap around both of their hard lengths. He goes back to kissing Dean, a bit gentler now, but no less thorough, while his hand starts up a steady rhythm.

Dean can feel himself getting close so he breaks from the kiss, dropping his forehead down to Steve’s shoulder, scrunching his eyes closed and breathing heavily.

“Look at me,” Steve commands, pausing in his stroking until Dean lifts his head to look into his eyes. “I want to see your face when I make you come undone.” Dean feels a shiver go down his spine at those words and gives a small nod, keeping his eyes locked onto Steve’s as the other man resumes his stroking, pumping his hips faster as he tightens his grip. Their foreheads are touching now, blue eyes scorching into green, and Dean knows they’re both close, tremendous heat pooling low in his gut as Steve’s thrusts become erratic, slowing down as his grip gets perceptively tighter. 

When he knows that he can’t take it anymore, the intense pleasure peaking and his breath catching in his throat, Dean comes, keeping his eyes locked on the other man as his breathing finally resumes, shuddering out. Steve is only moments behind, crashing their lips together and kissing Dean through his orgasm, hips slowing down until they cease moving all together. 

This time it’s Steve that drops his forehead to Dean’s shoulder, Dean resting his own head back against the wall as he drags his fingers gently through Steve’s hair in a calming gesture. “That was…” Dean says, looking for the right words but failing to find them. “That was something else.” 

Steve lifts his head to look into Dean’s face with a guarded expression. “But… was it good? I mean… did you enjoy yourself” 

“Did I enjoy myself?” Dean chuckles and gives a slight shake of his head. “Does a werewolf chomp on hearts at the full moon?”

“Um… Well, I don- “ Steve begins before Dean cuts him off.

“Yes! Yes, I enjoyed myself immensely. Enjoyed you too,” he says with a smirk, leaning his face down to drop a kiss on Steve’s nose. “We should probably be getting a move on though. If I’m gone too long Sam might come looking for me… that damn moose is always butting in at the most inopportune times. I’m actually surprised he didn’t stick his giant head in here before we got in the shower. 

Steve gives a brief nod, lowering Dean’s legs back to the floor and grabbing a small handful of soap to clean himself off before stepping out of the shower. Dean does the same and turns off the tap before exiting himself. Steve hands him a towel and they both proceed to dry themselves off, glancing at each other every few moments, sharing small smiles and flirty eyes. 

They dress in silence before sharing one last kiss, tender this time, and then Dean is leading the way out of the room, Steve giving Dean one last slap on the ass, winking at Dean and flashing a smug grin as Dean glances over his shoulder and gives him a token glare. “Keep it up, Captain.”

Steve just smiles again and shakes his head, closing the door behind them.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Castiel is still trying his hardest not to imagine what Dean is doing right now when he hears Sam exclaim, “Hey, Cas, I think I found something.” Focusing on the screen, Castiel listens intently as Sam continues, “There’s a place in Massachusetts that has a large collection of lore books. I haven’t been able to find any digital copies but this place has a lot of familiar works in stock.”

Before Castiel can respond, Natasha is walking in, dressed in clothes that are clean and free of knife slashes. “Clint says that if we want him here before tomorrow, then someone has to come pick him up, so I’m going to go get him in the quinjet. Care to join me, Sam?” At this last, she smiles a small smile and places one hand on her hip, jutting the other one out a bit. At Sam’s look of hesitance she continues with, “Come on, it’ll be fun!” 

“What will be fun,” Dean asks, walking into the lab, Steve close on his heels. Castiel notices that Dean’s hair is wet, which seems a bit unusual. Then switching his gaze to Steve he notices that his hair is wet as well. He’s wearing a shirt now but that doesn’t do much to assuage the jealous burn that’s starting to roil in the angel’s gut again. Why is Dean’s hair wet? Did he shower? Did they shower together? 

And that’s when he sees it… a small purple bruise on the side of Dean’s neck, just under his jaw. Castiel’s never had experience with getting or giving these marks but he’s seen them on Dean plenty of times after a night of sex with some stranger he met at a bar. 

And that tiny little mark is all it takes to have Castiel itching for the feel of his angel blade in his hand – a bone-deep urge to plunge it deep into Steve’s chest and then grab ahold of Dean to place his own marks on the Hunter, daring anyone to try and take Dean away from him. 

Knowing that he needs to remove himself from this situation before he says or does something that he can’t take back, Castiel turns to Sam and says, “I will retrieve the books that you have found.” And he’s off, disappearing without another word – just the soft sound of fluttering wings.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
“What’s got his wings in a knot?” Dean scans the remaining faces, trying to figure out what has Cas in such a snit. Sam just sighs and shakes his head while Tony narrows his gaze speculatively, arms crossing on his chest and eyes darting between Dean and Steve’s wet heads, finally landing on the darkened patch of skin on Dean’s neck.

“Pretty sure it’s you, Paul Bunyan. You know, you two can go off and play ‘hide the zucchini’ all you want, but you may want to be a bit more discreet.” Tony points to his own neck and Dean’s hand flies up to slap over the hickey that he had forgotten was there, meanwhile Steve brings his hand up to the back of his head, his face flashing beet red as he averts his gaze to the ground. “I don’t think Mr. Smite-Face appreciated his boyfriend getting it on with some other guy.”

“I’m not his… we’re not…” Dean stumbles over his words, struggling to find a coherent response to the absurd idea that Cas would be jealous of Steve, that Cas would actually feel like he has some claim on Dean, that he could possibly want him that way. 

“Don’t hurt yourself there, buddy… that was just my interpretation of the situation. But what do I know? I’m only a genius.” Dean makes a face at that, rolling his eyes and glancing at Steve before turning back to Tony. “And you,” Tony continues. “Captain America, batting for the other team! Who knew? Certainly not me. I’m a bit hurt that you didn’t tell me, Cap.” He says it in a playful manner but Dean can tell that he is a bit hurt, using levity to mask emotional pain. And Dean would know – it is the go-to reaction for the elder Winchester brother. 

“You never asked,” Steve says to Tony, pausing only long enough to level one fleeting look his way. “Anyway,” Steve says, trying to steer the conversation into less treacherous waters. “Bring us up to speed. What have you found out about the spell? And where are we in locating Wanda… I mean, Meg?” 

“We’ve got a lead on some pertinent lore books. That’s where Cas just went, to find them and bring them back here,” Sam finishes, turning his attention to Tony next.

“Finding Meg is proving difficult,” Tony says. “My facial recognition software should have found her by now… she can’t have gotten that far.” 

“Actually,” Sam replies, “She could be anywhere. One of her demon powers is teleportation. She could be halfway across the world by now and even if we found her and followed her, she’d probably be long gone by the time we got there. We may be able to do a summoning spell, but I’d recommend on holding off on that until we’ve found a way to kill her or banish her from Wanda’s body.”

Tony nods his acceptance to Sam’s recommendation and then Natasha is speaking to Dean and Steve. “I was just saying, before you two came in and caused a scene… that I’m about to take the quinjet to go pick up Clint. I suggested that Sam come with me. Like I said, it will be fun, and he can catch us up on all things demonic on the flight back.” Natasha looks back to Sam who in turn looks at Dean, silently asking for his opinion on the matter.

“Why not, Sammy? Go have some fun before it all goes completely to shit.” Sam smiles slightly at his brother, giving a slight shrug of his shoulders before standing up to join Natasha.

“Alright, count me in, I guess.” Natasha perks up at this, gesturing for Sam to follow her.

“Wait,” Tony says, stopping them in their tracks. “Take these.” He hands Dean and Sam each a glass rectangle and a small roundish thing. “That’s a Stark-phone and an earpiece. They’ll link you up to the rest of the team.” Sam easily slips the earpiece into his ear and pockets the phone but Dean just kind of stands there and stares at them.

“I had that same look on my face the first time Tony equipped me.” Steve brings his hand up to rest companionably on Dean’s shoulder, exchanging a smile with the confused-looking man. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you figure it out.” 

At that, Sam and Natasha are leaving the room, Dean shouting after his brother, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, Sammy! Wait… on second thought – don’t do anything I WOULD do!” He hears Sam chuckle before the lab door closes, turning back to Steve and Tony and rubbing his hands together to try to dispel the sudden tension that he can feel in the room. “So… anyone hungry? I could demolish a bacon cheeseburger right about now.”


	4. Enter Asgardians, Stage Left

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the short length of this chapter. Much like Meg, this chapter was being a complete bitch. It's heavy on plot and dialogue and those things are hard so there you go. I'll try to get the next chapter (which was originally going to be the second half of this chapter) up as quickly as possible.

“Here’s your drink, sir.” The young man smiles shyly as he slides the tumbler of amber liquid across the bar, his warm brown eyes sparkling. “Is there anything else I can do for you? Anything at all?” 

Loki glances down to where the man’s hand is lingering on the glass, and then he leans forward a bit and allows his fingers to brush against the other man’s. “As a matter of fact—“

“Hey! Turn that up!” A loud voice interrupts him, causing the bartender to pull his hand back quickly and scurry away to turn up the volume on the television mounted above the bar. Loki turns his head to glare at the intruder, a young man in a baseball cap speaking to a dark haired women seated next to him. “This is that Avengers documentary that I was telling you about!”

Taking a sip from his glass, Loki turns his attention away from the vexatious youth, focusing instead on the television screen. 

The screen is playing a grainy clip of a video, probably taken from someone’s cellphone, showing a young woman blasting a group of robots to pieces using some sort of red cloud emanating from her hands. “Well, that’s a new one,” Loki says to himself. He’s wearing a black suit with a green tie and he’s using his powers of illusion to slightly change his facial features and shorten his midnight-black hair so no one should recognize him. Just to be safe though, he finishes his drink in one go, leaving money under the glass and then grabs his golden walking stick and heads out the door. 

The early autumn afternoon has a noticeable chill in the air as the tall man walks the streets of New York City, but of course the cold doesn’t bother the Frost Giant. He hasn’t been on Earth for long this go-around, having just barely escaped Thor back on Asgard. He’s on his own this time and no longer having the scepter with the mind stone is proving to be a stumbling block in his plans of world domination. He still has Gungnir, and though the Spear of Odin rivals his old scepter in strength, without the infinity stone it lacks in the ability to control minds. 

He remembers the power that he felt when he had used the scepter, the rush he experienced at the feeling of control. The Chitauri too – all of those legions under his command. What he wouldn’t give for either one of those things right now. As much as he hates to admit it, he wouldn’t stand a chance against the Avengers at the moment, not on his own. 

Ruminating on his current difficulties, he almost misses the commotion taking place as he passes a darkened alleyway. Stopping in his tracks he takes a few steps back to peer down the narrow space. He spies a small woman with long auburn hair holding a tall man wearing a fuzzy blue sweater against one brick wall. As he watches, the woman proceeds to slit the man’s throat and then she’s holding a large silver chalice under the wound, collecting the blood as it gushes from the dying man’s neck. She steps back after about fifteen seconds, releasing the man as he slides down to the ground, making choked-off sputtering noises and clutching at his throat before finally slumping over lifeless.

Stepping away from the corpse, the young woman dips her finger into the blood in the chalice, swirling it around while reciting some sort of incantation. Loki watches as she appears to wait a few moments and then she’s repeating the action, becoming noticeably more agitated as the seconds tick by and nothing seems to come of her actions. 

Suddenly, she’s yelling and throwing the chalice across the alleyway, blood spattering against the wall like some sort of macabre modern art. “Fuck,” she yells, pacing back and forth before coming to a stop in front of the still body lying on the ground. She expresses her frustration by placing a swift kick to the lifeless man’s side. 

“Now, now… is that any way to show respect for the dead?” Loki saunters up to the woman, clucking his tongue and slowly shaking his head. He comes to an abrupt halt though when he recognizes the girl from the video clip in the bar. “Hold on… since when do the Avengers go around slitting throats in stinking alleyways? Aren’t you supposed to be the ‘good guys’?” He doesn’t actually use the finger quotes, but his tone makes the implication clear.

The girl – Wanda, he remembers the narrator had called her – cocks her head a bit and looks at him skeptically but doesn’t seem threatened or surprised by his presence. She also doesn’t seem at all concerned that she’s just been witnessed committing a brutal murder. “Good guys are overrated,” she responds. 

“I couldn’t agree with you more.” Loki lets his illusionary disguise fade away, revealing his true face, his customary Asgardian garb, and Gungnir – returned to its full size and shape, no longer appearing as the golden walking stick. “And it just so happens that I’m in search of like-minded individuals to join me in some decidedly not-good activities. What do you say, Wanda? Care to join me in some good old-fashioned villainy?” 

“Not Wanda,” Meg says, her eyes flashing black long enough for it to be noticeable. 

Loki had suspected that there was something very different about this girl but he had assumed it was only her enhanced abilities that set her apart from all the other humans that he had encountered. Though, perhaps it is something else entirely. “You’re something new, aren’t you,” he asks, eyeing her critically.

“That I am, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Lanky. Name’s Meg. I’m a demon.” She looks smug, like maybe she’s expecting him to be shocked or impressed, possibly both. And though it’s not exactly what he’d been expecting (he doesn’t really know what he’d been expecting), he thinks he can work with it. “Didn’t catch your name though…”

“I am Loki of Asgard.” 

She looks him up and down, taking in his outlandish costume, and gives him a smirk. “Well, Loki of Asgard… you had me at ‘good old-fashioned villainy’.”

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dean hates this part – the waiting. Sam and Cas are still gone, that Other Sam guy and the big red freak-bot haven’t joined them yet, and ever since Dean finished explaining the whole Hunter lifestyle/demon backstory to Tony the man has been studiously ignoring both him and Steve, peering intently at his screens even though Dean’s pretty sure that he’s not gleaning any new information. 

Dean tried to engage Steve in some flirty small talk, contemplating asking the man if he maybe wants to spend the waiting time back in his room (Dean wouldn’t be averse to partaking in a round two) but Steve seems preoccupied, thoughts turned inward as he tries to act like he’s not looking at Tony like a puzzle that he desperately needs to solve. 

Just when Dean decides that he can’t take it anymore and he’s about to do something very Dean-like – perhaps charge out into the world to look for Meg with nothing but his trusty Colt and his give ‘em hell attitude – the lab doors open and Sam, Natasha, and a third person that Dean has never seen before enter the room. 

“About damn time,” Dean says, ostensibly speaking to his brother though his eyes are taking in the new comer – from his short, dark blond hair (not unlike Dean’s own, even down to the spiky style) and his stern expression, over his long-sleeved, almost knee-length black and maroon jacket, finally landing on the quiver of arrows on his back and the large bow he’s carrying in his left hand. He remembers Tony referring to the man as ‘Legolas’ and he smiles to himself in understanding. 

“It wasn’t angel-express fast but we weren’t gone that long, Dean. Speaking of… has Cas been back yet?” Dean shakes his head at Sam’s question and before he can say more on the matter, the doors are opening again, Other Sam and Vision joining the group. 

Steve stands up straight, giving his attention to the two who’ve just entered. “Any news?”

“I’ve contacted both Hill and Fury and brought them up to speed on what we know so far, which admittedly isn’t a whole hell of a lot, considering. They’ll both be on the compound shortly and said to let them know if we get any new information.” Other Sam finishes his ‘report’ and then they’re all shifting their attention to Vision, who’s looking markedly worried and shifting about nervously like he really doesn’t want to say what he’s about to say. 

“There’s been news of a man with his throat slit in an alley in New York City. An eye-witness reports seeing a young woman fitting Wanda’s description entering the alley shortly before the body was found.” 

“Yep, that sounds like Meg alright,” Dean says. Steve looks confused by this statement but it’s Sam who elaborates.

“She was probably trying to communicate with Hell. There’s a way to use human blood as a conduit to connect a speaker with someone on another plane of existence. She must not know that Hell doesn’t exist here… well, she may have figured it out when the ‘call’ failed to go through…” Sam trails off when he notices that most of the faces in the room have looks ranging from disgusted to horrified at hearing this information. He clears his throat self-consciously and looks to Dean who just gives him a slight shrug of his shoulders.

The tense silence in the room is broken by the sound of wings and everyone who’s not a Winchester shows varying signs of surprise as Cas appears in their midst, Clint going so far as to draw an arrow from his quiver at lightning speed, pull back on his bow and point it right between Cas’s eyes as he demands, “Who the hell are you?!”

“I am Castiel. I’m an angel of the Lord.” He looks at the tip of Clint’s arrow, going a bit cross-eyed as he does so. “If you wish to hurt me, you’re going to have to do better than that puny human weapon.” 

“Alright Cas,” Dean says, shoving off from his position leaning against a table at the far side of the room to come stand next to the angel. “Enough with the ‘puny human’ talk. Show us what you’ve found.” Cas gives Clint one last look of disdain as the archer re-sheathes his arrow. 

“I was able to locate the spell. I was also able to locate the ingredients for the spell but there appears to be a problem.” He doesn’t immediately elaborate so Dean gives him a sarcastic gesture as if to say, ‘Please, by all means, do tell!’ Cas scowls at Dean but he does continue talking. “I fear that some of these ingredients won’t be effective. This ‘bone of a lesser saint’ for example,” he says, holding it up for all to see. “As I’ve said before, there is no heaven in this world, at least no heaven created by my father. In fact, my father’s presence is completely lacking in this world. He and all things biblical seem to be merely myth and legend and as such, objects that in our world would have the power of God behind them… here they are reduced to mere tokens. There are no actual saints in this world; therefore this bone is just a bone. Same with the holy oil. Without the power of God behind these items, I don’t believe that the spell will work.”

“So it’s like the movie set props in that other universe that Balthazar sent us to?” Cas nods his head at Dean’s assessment. “So wait… that means that holy water won’t work against Meg either. Shit,” Dean says, shaking his head. This is just their fucking luck. “Well, at least salt should still work, right?”

“I believe so, yes,” Cas responds. “But salt can only do so much. It will be useless in actually killing her, especially with her host body’s enhanced abilities. We need to devise another plan to stop her.” 

A short silence follows and then there’s some sort of alarm sounding in the lab before the disembodied female voice is speaking again. “You have company, Boss. Thor is on his way up.”

“Thor?! Like as in, ‘I’m the God of Thunder, look at my hammer, name a day of the week after me’ Thor?” Dean is really excited now. Just when he thought that they couldn’t get any more awesome super powers condensed into one room an actual freaking god shows up. “Wait… is he a good guy or…” Dean lets the question trail off, remembering that douchebag Odin who had attended the human-flesh buffet at that meeting of the pagan gods where Gabriel was killed. 

“Yes,” Steve says. “Thor is a ‘good guy’. He’s fought for Earth several times before. Last we knew he was back on Asgard though… said he had some things to take care of.” 

The lab doors open once again to reveal an absolute beefcake of a man, long flowing golden hair, tan skin and piercing blue eyes, wearing a silver metallic and black leather outfit, crimson cape flowing behind him and… yep, there’s the hammer, grasped in his absolutely massive hand. Jesus, if Dean had thought Steve had big muscles… this guy looks like he’s the arm wrestling champion of the world. And now Dean’s imagining Steve and Thor wrestling… damn it! Not the time, Dean! 

He notices that his mouth is hanging open like a fly trap so he snaps it shut with an audible click, quickly glancing first at Sam, then at Cas – the former of which is also staring pretty wide-eyed at Thor, the latter staring at Dean himself, cold blue gaze locked on Dean’s face. Dean thinks that the smite-face thing is getting kinda old at this point so he ignores Cas in favor of turning his attention back to the god.

Thor opens his mouth to speak but then closes it again, looking at the Winchesters and the angel before turning a questioning gaze to the others. “Who is this,” he asks the room at large.

“Thor, this is Dean, Sam, and Castiel. Dean and Sam are brothers, Castiel’s an angel, and they’ve come here from another universe and are attempting to help stop a demon that’s taken over Wanda’s body.” Tony gestures to the trio and Thor in turn. “Boys, this is Thor, he’s come here from another world as well, and if I had to hazard a guess, by the grumpy look on his face I’d say it just might have something to do with his snarky asshole of a brother. You all should sit down and have a chat, you seem to have loads in common.” Dean doesn’t miss the look of derision that Tony throws his way with this last statement and he wonders what he did to piss this guy off now. 

Thor appears confused by the hostility in Tony’s voice but speaks his piece nonetheless. “It is true. I have come here because of my brother. Loki has been spending his time impersonating our father. When I discovered his malfeasance I attempted to bring him to heel but he fled. I have followed him through the bifrost and down here to Midgard. I fear the dastardly plans that he may have in store for Earth.”

“That’s just what we need… if a murderous demon wearing our friend wasn’t a big enough problem, now we have a murderous sociopath on the loose as well.” Natasha voices what everyone is thinking. “Well, at least they aren’t working together.” 

Those are some famous last words if Dean’s ever heard them and before you can say ‘Exorcizamus te’ that lilting voice is speaking up once again. “Mr. Stark, sir, there are intruders at the Avengers Tower.” All eyes turn toward the screen in front of Tony where what looks like security footage begins to play. And sure enough, there’s Meg, still in Wanda’s meatsuit, now with a tall handsome man by her side as they break through a glass door and enter the building on an upper floor. 

“Well, at least we know where they are now,” Dean says flippantly, suddenly finding himself with two sets of beautiful blue eyes narrowed scornfully at him before Cas and Steve are both speaking over each other.

“Dean, please be serious,” Cas says, at the same time as Steve states, “That doesn’t really make me feel any better, Dean.” The two men look at each other and the tension in the room raises even more (if that’s even possible) until Tony speaks up.

“I hate to break up this little staring contest you two have got going on but I’d kind of like to get back to my building while there’s still something left to get back to.” Tony holds his hand out like he’s expecting someone to hand him something and Dean watches as one of the gauntlets from Tony’s suit launches itself onto Tony’s hand, the rest of the suit following soon after, wrapping Tony up in a metal cocoon. 

The anticipation in the room is palpable as Dean looks around from one face to the next, pausing for a few moments on Cas before finally landing on Steve, his position as leader of the group obvious in the way he straightens up and addresses the assembled team. “Yes. Everyone suit up and meet in the hanger as soon as possible. We’re bringing the fight to them.”


	5. Just an Average Day in the Life of Dean Winchester

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since I updated but I hope that this extra-long chapter makes up for that fact. I've stayed up all night finishing it and it's chock-full of action and sexy times so enjoy. 
> 
> I kinda feel like it should be my mission in life to get people on board the good ship Stean (I know, it's not a great ship name but what else can you do with Steve and Dean? Captain Dean? Rogchester? Idk). Anyway... the more I write them, the more I'm totally enamored with them as a pairing. 
> 
> CN for torture in this chapter. It's a short scene and has no lasting damage or consequences but I thought I'd point it out here. I'll add a brief explanation of the scene in the end notes of this chapter in case that's a big issue with anyone. I've also added other additional tags so take note.

“The live security feed shows that they’re just sitting in the penthouse.” Tony is flying outside the quinjet instead of riding inside with the rest of the group but his voice can be heard on all of their earpieces. Dean has the feeling that Tony’s decision not to join them has something to do with him but maybe he’s just being paranoid. 

Steve had insisted that Dean (and Sam and Cas as well) be allowed to join the fight, to which Tony had seemed to take personal offense – grounding out a terse, “That pistol in his pocket will be useless in this situation, Cap. He’ll just hold you… us…back. He’ll just hold us back,” before flying off in anger. Ok, so maybe Dean’s not completely paranoid after all. 

“They must be waiting for us.” Steve sounds calm, and Dean figures that he probably is since he’s used to these sorts of situations, but when he looks at Dean, he can see the fear there too. Probably not fear for himself, Dean guesses, but fear for the rest of the group… fear that they may not all make it out unharmed. Dean knows the feeling well so he stands up and walks over to Steve, giving him a small encouraging smile as he places one hand on the man’s upper back. He then slides his hand up to rest on the back of Steve’s neck, giving it a slight squeeze and rubbing his thumb up and down the side in a reassuring way. Steve returns the smile and moves as if he’s about to kiss Dean, or maybe rest their foreheads together, but instead he jumps back a bit, startled by the sudden appearance of Cas, looking thunderous and speaking directly to Dean.

“Tell me again why I can’t just fly us to the Tower, Dean? Why must we travel in this jet? I thought you hated air travel?” Cas has an extremely suspicious look on his face which Dean doesn’t really think is warranted in this situation so he rolls his eyes as he removes his hand from Steve’s neck and turns to address the angel.

“Because, Cas, like I said before… we aren’t just dealing with Meg now. We’ve got this Loki joker in the mix so we can use all the help we can get. Look around,” he gestures at the assembled group. “These are literal super heroes. And they’ve dealt with this asshole before. Besides, Meg is possessing their friend. You can’t just smite her; we’re going to have to try to subdue her. So, we’re following their lead and this is how they travel.” Cas still looks highly skeptical at his explanation so Dean steps a bit closer and lowers his voice to say, “And you’re right, I do hate to fly… but you’re here. You wouldn’t let me die in a fiery jet crash, would you, Cas?” 

Cas appears to be mollified by Dean’s faith in him. His brow unfurrows and his eyes move down to stare at Dean’s lips as he darts his tongue out to wet them, suddenly very aware of how close he and the angel are standing. “Of course I wouldn’t, Dean.” His gaze doesn’t leave Dean’s mouth until there’s a slight cough, coming from just behind Dean – and Cas’s smite-face is back in full force now. “I still don’t like this plan.” And then he’s gone again, appearing next to Sam on the other side of the jet, back in total sulk-mode. 

“If you two are done with the lovers’ quarrel, we’re here.” Natasha speaks from the cockpit and Dean takes a quick look at Sam, noticing how his brother is holding his hand in front of his mouth, trying and failing to hide the snicker he makes at the woman’s statement. 

“Yeah, yeah… laugh it up, Sammy.” Dean pulls out the Colt and quickly re-checks the chamber before turning to Steve. “So, how do we do this?”

Before Steve can respond, Tony’s voice is speaking into everyone’s ear again. “Just try to stay out of the way, Junior. Let the grown-ups do their jobs.” 

Dean wants to give a smart-ass remark to that but they’ve landed and the hatch is opening so he’s got to be on his game right now. Truth be told, he is a little intimidated. Don’t get him wrong, Dean’s been fighting for a long time and he’s no slouch in the BAMF department… but now he feels like he’s being compared not only to gods and flying tech geniuses, but also a freaking super soldier (who looks fucking amazing in that uniform by the way… Dean’s actually having a hard time keeping his dick in check just looking at him). And that’s not counting the angel… he’s used to the inferiority that he feels whenever he’s around Cas. 

“Does everyone have their salt?” Sam had insisted that they detour to the kitchen before leaving, equipping everyone with a pouch of salt. They hadn’t had the time or equipment needed to load shotgun shells so this was all they could do on such short notice. “It won’t stop her, but it might be enough to slow her down.” Everyone checks their supply and answers in the affirmative, and then they’re all headed out of the jet to face what’s waiting for them.

They’d been expecting Meg and Loki, but what they hadn’t been expecting was the small legion of Stark Industries security guards swarming the group as soon as they leave the bay. 

“Don’t kill them!” Steve is fighting his way through a group of five, punching and blocking with his shield. “They’re probably under Meg’s control. If she has access to Wanda’s telekinesis then she must have her mind control powers as well.” 

“Mind control powers? Great… that’s just great,” Dean says sarcastically. He glances around quickly to locate his angel. “Remember, Cas, no smiting!” Cas doesn’t deem fit to even respond to Dean’s reminder, he just places two fingers to the forehead of the security guard in front of him. The guard crumples to the ground like a marionette with its strings cut and then Cas is moving on to the next. 

Other Sam speaks up through the earpiece. “Steve! Clint, Natasha, and I can handle the guards. Why don’t the rest of you go find Loki and the demon?” 

Steve answers in the affirmative and Dean follows him as the rest of the group enters the penthouse. They don’t get far before suddenly Dean isn’t in the skyscraper anymore. He knows where he is though… the red-tinted darkness and unmistakable stink of death and fear is burned into his memory. His heart starts to race and his breath comes in quick gasps, sweat beginning to drip down his brow and the small of his back. He doesn’t know how but he’s back… back in Hell. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Castiel watches as the demon wearing a young woman with long auburn hair steps up behind Dean and flicks her hand at his head, a small cloud of red emanating from her fingertips. “Dean!” He flies to Dean’s side in the blink of an eye but the demon is gone and Dean is falling to his knees with a glazed look in his eyes, his head dropping into his hands as he curls in on himself. “Dean, are you hurt?” He can’t see any physical damage but Dean doesn’t seem to be able to hear him. He’s moaning incoherently between gasping breaths. 

Castiel looks up in time to see a tall man wearing a green cape point a long golden spear at the back of Steve’s head. Steve appears to have lost focus on the task at hand, instead staring at Dean with a scared look on his face. The tall man takes aim and shoots a beam of flame toward Steve but Tony swoops in and deflects the fire before blasting the man back with the repulsor beam from his hand. 

Without as much as a ‘thanks’ to Tony, Steve is rushing toward Dean, kneeling down to run his hands over the Hunter to check for injuries. “Leave him,” Cas commands, pushing the soldier back with his angel strength and gathering Dean in his arms. He flies the Hunter back to the compound in a split second, places him gently on the sofa, and flies back to the Tower. 

Steve is still standing there, gawking when Castiel returns. “What did you do with him?!”

“I brought him back to the compound. He doesn’t seem to be physically injured but he’s incapacitated. I thought it best if he was out of harm’s way… Shouldn’t you be protecting your team?” Castiel watches as Steve’s face goes through an interesting array of emotions, first angry, then relieved, then abashed, and back to angry again… then he’s turning back to head into the fray, his shield in place on his arm. 

Thor is in a stand-off with Loki on the far side of the room with Tony hovering on the periphery. Sam and Steve are circling Meg, their hands in the pouches at their waists grabbing fist-fulls of salt and preparing to throw it at her, Vision hovering like Tony around their little group. 

Castiel is trying to decide which fight to join first when both groups simultaneously move into action. In the first group, Thor throws his hammer at Loki at the same time as Tony blasts toward him with another repulsor beam. But instead of hitting their target, the hammer and the blast go right through the tall man as he disappears, rematerializing directly behind Thor and stabbing him in the back with his spear. 

“Apparently you never _won’t_ fall for that… brother.” He pushes Thor off of the spear right into Tony, throwing the metal man off balance. 

In the second group, Sam and Steve prepare to hit Meg with the salt but they aren’t quick enough, her power of telekinesis freezing them in place before they can strike. She blasts the two men back, causing them to fly across the room and land harshly in a pile on the floor, limbs tangled. Castiel decides that Meg is his priority so he flies to her side of the room as she’s focusing her attention on Vision. 

“Clarence!” A slow smile lifts the corner of Meg’s mouth and her eyes sparkle as she takes in the angel. “You traveled across universes just to visit little old me? Come to play ‘pizza man’ again?” Her smirk is full-blown now and Castiel feels rage burning in his chest. He doesn’t know what she’s done to Dean but if she’s done something to truly hurt him he thinks smiting will be too good for her. He’ll happily torture her himself, possession or not. 

“Give it up, Meg. You don’t belong here. Come back with us and be dealt with accordingly… or refuse and I can smite you where you stand.” Meg just looks amused, smiling at Castiel before turning her focus back to Vision who she has held in place in the air. 

“I don’t think I will, Clarence. I kind of like it here – new clothes, new friends… new powers. I think I’ll stay.” Castiel isn’t exactly sure how to proceed at this point. He’s been told not to smite her, but without the demon-killing spell he doesn’t know how to incapacitate her with her current powers. She may be stronger than him at this point… he just doesn’t know. 

Sam, Steve, and Tony are all advancing on Meg again but once more she blasts them back across the room. Castiel figures that he won’t know what he can do until he tries so he moves toward Meg, thinking that he’ll try to make her fall unconscious like he did with the guards – but before he knows it, Loki is standing in front of him and stabbing him with his spear. 

It’s not an angel blade – there’s no immediate flash of grace seeping out of the wound – but it hurts. It hurts more than a normal human weapon. Castiel falls to the ground, blood soaking through his shirt as he presses his hand to the wound. He wants to move – to get up and fight back—but he can’t. He’s just too weak and all he can do is sit and watch as Loki walks toward Vision. 

Meg lowers her hand a bit, using her telekinesis to lower Vision as well, while still holding him immobile. Loki approaches the red man, then uses the tip of his spear to pry the glowing yellow gem from Vision’s forehead. He holds the gem between his thumb and finger, raising it up to admire it before placing it in a pocket at his waist. 

“Excellent,” Loki says, turning to look at the demon. “Let’s go, Meg. We’ve gotten what we came for.” Meg releases Vision from her hold, the part-man landing roughly on the floor, lifeless. 

Castiel can feel himself healing, but it’s not nearly as fast as usual – he still can’t really move from his position on the floor. He looks on uselessly as the demon and the Frost Giant walk out the door. He has no illusions that they’ll be stopped by the three fighters that are still outside… he just hopes that the trio won’t be hurt. 

Looking down at his midsection, Castiel places his hand over the wound, focusing the bright light as his healing powers close up the puncture, restoring him completely. He rises to his feet and walks over to where Thor is lying on the floor, his life-force fading as blood seeps from the wound on his back. Castiel kneels down next to the man and places his hand over the wound, just like he had done to himself, the healing glow restoring the man to full health, even fixing the stains and tears in his costume. 

“Thank you, friend Castiel. I feel much rejuvenated.” Castiel nods his acceptance of Thor’s thanks and they both return to standing, looking around as the rest of the group joins them. Sam, Steve, and Tony hobble over to them as Other Sam, Natasha, and Clint open the door and join them inside. The whole group is looking the worse for wear but no one else seems to have any life-threatening injuries. 

“So what now?” Sam asks what everyone is thinking, looking first to Castiel before glancing around at all the other worn faces in the group. 

“Now we regroup,” says Steve, drawing himself up and trying to not look defeated (but not entirely succeeding). “We return to the compound and check on Dean. Then we come up with a new plan. We’re not giving up yet.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He can’t be here again. How could he be here again? Cas had said that there was no hell in this universe so even if he had been killed, how could he have gotten here? Dean is looking around the darkened space, trying to make sense of his surroundings. He’s definitely in Hell – that noxious blend of sulfur and blood, shit and vomit and rotting flesh, it’s unmistakable. He’ll never forget that smell, just like he’ll never forget this feeling of utter terror that’s taken up residence in Dean’s soul – the feeling that he’ll never be safe again, that pain and hopelessness will be the only things he’ll ever feel again. 

“Dean, Dean, Dean.” Dean feels his flesh crawl at the sound of that drawling voice. He spins around to face the demon, taking a hasty step back and wishing fervently that he had Ruby’s knife in the palm of his hand. “I knew you’d be back, Dean. You always were my best student. Now you’ve come back to class… come to complete your education.” 

“Alastair.” Dean’s really panicking now, but the sight of the demon has caused a little of the terror to recede, to be replaced by rage at the smarmy bastard’s face. “You’re dead, you colossal douchebag. Sam killed you.” 

“Wrong again, Dean-O. As a matter of fact… it’s Sam who’s dead.” Alastair lifts one hand, brandishing a large knife as he gestures behind Dean. Dean turns to look where he’s pointing and his heart drops, plummeting directly to his feet as he takes in the image of his brother, naked and spread-eagle, strapped down to the rack that Dean knows so well. “It’s time for your next lesson, Dean. It’s a science project of sorts… anatomy. You’re going to dissect Sam here… open him up and see what makes him tick.” 

Alastair stalks up to Dean and places the knife in his hand. Dean can’t help it… every instinct is telling him to take the knife and plunge it into Alastair’s heart, but he can’t. The familiar feel of the knife in his hand, the body splayed out on the rack in front of him, is taking over. Soon all he can feel is the old familiar relief at not being the one on the rack, to be the one with the knife, the one with the power. Suddenly it doesn’t matter that it’s his baby brother that he’s supposed to torture… Dean is on autopilot as he steps forward and brings the tip of the knife to rest in the middle of Sam’s chest. 

The fear on his brother’s face is registering in Dean’s brain but all the feelings of love and terror that he feels for Sam is caged. Dean can see it, can feel it… but he can’t utilize it. All he can do is look on helplessly as his hand plunges the knife into Sam’s chest, dragging it down from sternum to navel while his brother’s agonizing scream’s fill the air.

Suddenly, Alastair’s presence by Dean’s side is gone, but it’s replaced by another presence – the feeling of static electricity and a blinding white light dragging Dean’s attention away from the body before him. Cas is there, looking at Dean with disgust and pity as he takes in the scene before him. 

“Cas…” Dean feels such an overwhelming wave of shame and self-disgust as he looks at the angel, the urge to hide the knife behind his back and deny any involvement in the gory tableau strong. 

“I knew it was a mistake to save you, Dean. You’re tainted… evil. I should have left you to rot the first time. You disgust me, Dean.” Cas shakes his head sadly, before turning away from Dean, throwing one last remark over his shoulder. “This is where you belong… you’re the true abomination.” 

“Cas, no! Cas… wait!!” Dean tries to grab Cas’s arm, the soft material of the trench coat slipping through his fingers as two large black wings unfurl from Cas’s back. The wings start to beat, kicking up a strong wind and obscuring Dean’s vision, causing him to lift his arm to cover his eyes. “Cas… please!!!” 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Dean! Dean, wake up!” Dean feels strong arms shaking his shoulders. He opens his eyes but he can’t see, then he realizes that his blindness is caused by the arm that he’s holding pressed to his face. He’s lowers his arm, blinking at the bright light and glancing around quickly until he lands on a pair of bright blue eyes, looking both scared and relieved and very, very close. 

“Jeez, Cas, personal space!” Dean can see what looks like a hundred faces staring intently at him and it’s making him feel more than a little self-conscious. He realizes that he’d been dreaming, or hallucinating, or something, and he’s afraid of what he may have said while being observed by all these people. “Give a guy a little room to breathe.”

Cas backs off, looking a little hurt at being given the brush-off. Dean rolls up to a sitting position on the sofa, running his hand roughly down his face and taking a deep breath. 

“So… what’d I miss?” Dean expects Cas, or maybe Sam to start talking – to fill him in on what had happened while he was out – but Cas is staring at the ground like it personally offended him and Sam is hanging back from the group a bit, trying to look regretful but falling short of the mark as his eyes keep shifting to look at Natasha, an intensity there that he usually reserves for brand new lore books or health food – like he wants to devour them but take his time to savor it as he does. Instead it’s Steve, sitting down next to Dean as he starts to explain exactly what had gone down. 

He gives Dean a play-by-play, finishing up with, “… so they’ve got the mind stone and Vision is out of commission. If we can get the gem back, Tony can probably bring him back to life – so to speak – but we can’t be sure until we get it. And now we’re back to square one – well, square negative one now that we’ve lost the infinity stone, but anyway – we have to come up with a new plan.”

“Well, if no one has any bright ideas at the moment, I say we take the opportunity to rest… recharge our brains so that maybe we can think of a new plan. Meg and Loki are flying off the radar again. We’ll have to wait until they make an appearance or we’re ready to summon her anyway, right?” As per usual, Sam is the voice of reason, putting forth a logical plan of action even if in this case it’s actually a plan of inaction. 

“That sounds like an excellent idea. Let’s try to get a good night’s rest and come to the table tomorrow morning ready to brainstorm.” Steve gets back to his feet and stretches his arms above his head, picking up his shield and taking a few steps before turning back. "There’s food in the kitchen and most of you know where your rooms are… Natasha, could you show Sam where he can sleep? Clint, maybe you could take Castiel to a guest room?”

“I don’t require sleep.” Cas is speaking to Steve but he’s looking at Dean again, shifting from foot to foot like he wants to say something else. 

“Ok, well, you’re welcome to stay in here while the rest of us sleep.” Then turning to Dean he says, “Dean… if you want to come with me I’ll show you where you can lie down.” Dean stands up and begins to follow after Steve but he’s stopped by a hand on his wrist and he turns to see Cas standing very close with a determined look on his face. 

“Dean, could I have a word?” He doesn’t let go of Dean’s wrist and he doesn’t look away from Dean’s face. Dean glances around to see that everyone else is starting to move, leaving the room down various halls, but Steve is still standing there, waiting for him. 

“Um… sure, Cas. Steve, I’ll ah… I’ll catch up in a few…” Steve gives Dean a quick nod and turns to head down the hall to his bedroom and Dean turns back to look at Cas, who’s finally let go of his wrist.

“What’s up, Cas?” Castiel looks down at the floor again, refusing to meet Dean’s eyes and shifting slightly from foot to foot. Dean doesn’t know what he’s going to say but he can already tell that it’s something that he knows the angel isn’t looking forward to speaking about. 

“I do not like this, Dean.” Dean sighs slightly and rolls his eyes. He knows from experience that waiting for the angel to elaborate is kind of like trying to get a hellhound to ‘sit pretty’ or bring you your bedroom slippers… it may be possible eventually but it’s a long and frustrating experience.

“You do not like what, Cas?” Dean decides some prompting will hurry this along.

“I do not like this universe… I do not like this ‘plan’… and I especially do not like that _man_.” Cas narrows his eyes while looking in the direction that Steve just vacated and says ‘man’ like it’s an extremely filthy word.

“Cas…” Dean sighs again and catches Cas’s gaze before continuing. “Look… I know that this situation sucks. This universe is different – it’s not what we’re used to so we’re off our game. And that makes it difficult to ‘plan’, not gonna lie. But we’ll figure it out… we always do. And there’s nothing wrong with Steve. I mean, he’s Captain freakin’ America… why wouldn’t you trust him?” Dean cocks his head and gives Cas a questioning look, the angel glancing up to meet his gaze before quickly looking away again.

“I don’t like the way he looks at you… He looks as if he wants to devour you. I’m concerned that he may be a monster in disguise… perhaps a werewolf or a vampire, maybe a ghoul?” Dean laughs at that and shakes his head, looking fondly at Cas, endeared by his naiveté. 

“I guarantee that Steve does not want to eat my flesh or drink my blood, Cas.” He turns to leave and adds under his breath, “Other bodily fluids maybe…” and then Cas’s hand is on his wrist again, spinning the Hunter back around to face him, his stormy ‘angel of the Lord’ look back on his face.

“I do not like him, Dean. I do not like the way he looks at you and I do not like the way he touches you.” Cas keeps Dean’s wrist in an iron-grip—it’s not exactly painful but it isn’t very comfortable either. He looks at Cas and the angel’s gaze moves from his face directly to the side of his neck where Dean knows that the hickey that Steve gave him is still visible. Suddenly he feels the warm tingle of the angel’s healing energy flowing through his body and he brings his other hand up to poke at the side of his neck – he can’t feel the slight soreness of the bruise anymore and he’s bewildered at his friend’s decision to erase the mark without Dean’s request. 

“What the hell, Cas?!” Dean wrenches his hand away from Cas’s grip, stepping back when the angel finally lets go. 

“I think that we should leave, Dean. I think that we should collect Sam right now and go back to our universe. We have more important matters to attend to than one recalcitrant demon.” Dean can’t really believe what he’s hearing right now. He knows that Cas has a lot on his plate right now, the whole thing with Raphael and his plans to restart the apocalypse must be tough for the angel to deal with but he had thought that Cas understood the importance of their current situation. It’s their fault that Meg is here in the first place so it’s their responsibility to get rid of her. They can’t just leave her to destroy a whole other universe for fuck’s sake!

“Not a chance, Cas. Sam and I aren’t leaving until Meg is under wraps. We owe it to the people here…” Dean begins before being rudely cut off by Cas.

“We don’t owe them anything. _You_ don’t owe _Steve_ anything, Dean.” Dean is so done with this conversation. He doesn’t understand why Cas seems so hell-bent on turning Dean against Steve but the guy hasn’t been anything but accommodating (once the initial breaking-and-entering misunderstanding had been cleared up, of course) so Dean is done listening to the angel’s unreasonable opinions and demands. He’s tired and his patience is officially at an end.

“Look, Cas… I don’t know what’s gotten into you but it needs to end, now. Sam and I are staying. So if you want us to ever be able to return to our universe, that means you’re staying too. Steve is a nice guy. He hasn’t done anything to warrant you acting like this so knock it the fuck off. I’m going to bed. Since you don’t sleep, why don’t you take that amazing angel brain of yours and come up with a new plan by morning. The sooner we think of a way to stop Meg, the sooner we can leave.” 

“Fine.” Cas gives Dean one last stormy glare before he flies off, disappearing with that familiar whooshing noise.  


"Friggin' angels." Dean takes a deep breath and turns to walk away, following where Steve had retreated shortly before. He heads down the hall, eventually coming to a stop in front of Steve’s room. 

 

He knocks softly and opens the door after a quick, “Come in,” is heard from inside the room. He enters and sees Steve reclining on the bed, legs stretched out with one ankle resting on top of the other, hair wet and wearing a soft-looking t-shirt and sweatpants. The overhead lights are off but there’s a bedside lamp shining on Steve, casting a warm glow on the beautiful man as he puts pencil to paper, sketching in his notebook with a focused look on his face. Dean can’t help but smile at the domestic scene, pretending for a moment that his world isn’t full of monsters – that Dean is just a man, returning in the evening after a long day of meaningless work to spend quality time with family… his brother and his angel down the hall and a gorgeous man in bed waiting for him. 

“I’m kind of disappointed that you took off the uniform, Captain.” Dean shuts the door and leans back against it, shooting Steve a come-hither look. The other man regards Dean, letting his gaze drift lazily from his eyes all the way down to his feet, stopping a bit longer at his crotch as they make their way back up. He slowly closes his notebook and sets it on the nightstand before bringing his feet to the floor and standing up, stalking slowing toward Dean. 

“I suppose I could put it back on,” he says as he places his palms on the door on either side of Dean’s head, caging him in and leaning his body into Dean’s, pushing him up against the door as he melds his lips with Dean’s own. The kiss starts out softly but soon turns heated, tongues battling for dominance as Dean places his hands on Steve’s ass, pulling the man impossibly closer and grinding their hips together. 

Steve pulls his head back enough to moan out, “ _Dean_ …” at the feel of Dean’s rapidly growing erection rubbing against his own hardening length before he’s kissing him roughly again, this time showing Dean that there is no question who’s in charge here… it’s Steve and Dean better not forget it. 

He keeps up the slow roll of his hips as he moves to kiss a trail down Dean’s neck and then he pulls back suddenly, giving Dean a questioning look.

“What… How… I know that I left a mark here earlier. Where did it go?” Dean thumps his head back against the door and sighs before returning his gaze to Steve’s confused face.

“Cas healed it.” He still doesn’t really understand the motivation behind the angel’s decision to do that… the bruise hadn’t hurt, per se… he had actually liked it. He liked being able to poke at the mark and remember what he and Steve had done earlier in the day – a pleasant reminder at otherwise shitty times. 

Steve’s face loses the confusion and is suddenly replaced with a burning sort of determination. Dean would be a bit concerned if he didn’t get the feeling that he would very much like where that look was going to take him. 

Dean definitely isn’t disappointed when Steve surges forward and attacks his neck, sucking hard. The feeling is even more intense this time than it had been the first time and the painful pleasure sensation travels straight down to Dean’s groin, causing him to moan loudly as his dick throbs, a pulse of wetness dampening his underwear. 

Steve returns to kissing Dean’s mouth as he brings one hand down to unbutton the Hunter’s jeans. He proceeds to pull down the zipper and his other hand drags down Dean’s chest, coming to rest possessively on his hip as the fingers on his first hand hook into the waistband of Dean’s boxer-briefs, sliding around to land on Dean’s ass. He stops kissing Dean and leans their foreheads together, looking directly into Dean’s eyes as his middle finger begins to slowly slide up and down between Dean’s cheeks, getting closer to his hole with each pass.

“I want to have you, Dean. Will you let me have you?” Dean’s no stranger to anal sex. He’s been on the giving end as well as the receiving end more times than he can remember so he isn’t worried or scared about Steve’s request. Honestly, he’s thrilled. It’s been so long since he’s bottomed… Dean’s no twink so it’s usually difficult to find someone willing to top when he’s looking for a quick hookup in a bar. Most men see his size and his man’s-man demeanor and don’t even bother unless they’re only looking to trade blow-jobs. So this is really a dream come true for Dean. He tries not to let his excitement be too evident, wanting to tease Steve… see if he can really get the man riled up.

“You want to fuck me, Cap?” He licks his lips slowly and makes his eyes look even more hooded as he pushes his ass into Steve’s hand, deliberately shifting up and down so as to position Steve’s finger directly over his entrance. “You want to fuck my tight little hole as it clenches around your big cock, begging to be filled with your hot come?” 

“ _Yes,_ Dean… Oh God, _yes…_ ” Steve groans and surges forward to kiss Dean again, yanking him up to wrap his legs around Steve’s waist and then he’s turning around and carrying Dean to the bed, tossing him onto the mattress and following him up at a fast crawl. He pulls Dean up to a sitting position and removes his over-shirt; he then proceeds to yank Dean’s t-shirt over his head and tosses it onto the floor before pushing Dean back down onto the bed, lowering his head to take Dean’s nipple into his mouth, sucking and nibbling on the pebbled flesh. 

Dean throws his head back on the pillow and arches his chest into Steve’s mouth, gasping as the man bites down harder before moving onto the other nipple, replacing his mouth with his hand on the first, pinching the sensitive bud as Dean writhes beneath him. 

Steve sits back on his heels and wastes no time in taking off Dean’s boots and socks, chucking them to the floor with a loud thud. He then leans forward again and slowly runs his hands up Dean’s legs, landing on the waistband of his jeans before pulling them down and off. He leans down again and follows the path up his legs again… this time with hands and mouth on bare skin, kissing and licking up the insides of Dean’s thighs. He scrunches up the bottom of Dean’s boxer-briefs on one leg so that he can suck a bruise near the juncture of his leg and groin, pulling another delicious moan out of Dean as he fists the blankets under his hands. 

When he’s satisfied that the mark is big enough and dark enough, Steve moves up to place open-mouthed kisses on Dean’s stomach as he moves his hands to grasp the top of Dean’s underwear, hooking his fingers underneath the band before pulling them down torturously slow, freeing Dean’s aching cock on his way down and off of Dean’s legs. 

He takes a moment just to bask in the glory of Dean’s naked body and then he leans forward to wrap his hand around the top side of Dean’s dick, bracing it against the onslaught of Steve’s hot, wet tongue, licking a stripe from base to tip before sucking the head into his mouth and jacking him slowly and gently – teasing Dean on his way to incoherence. 

“Jesus, Cap… _fuck_.” Dean moves one hand to tangle lightly in Steve’s hair, following the bob of his head as he takes more of Dean’s cock in his mouth, tightening the suction on the way back up. “Christ, that feels good. But you’d better start prepping me soon if you don’t want me to come before we barely get started… I want you to fuck me, Cap. I need to feel you inside me as soon as humanly possible.” 

Steve sits up again, pulling off his t-shirt as he goes. He stands up momentarily to tug his sweatpants down (Dean’s surprised to see that he’s going commando), his large, hard cock springing free to bounce slightly against his stomach. He moves to the nightstand and opens the top drawer, coming back with a bottle of lube. 

“I don’t have any rubbers… but I can’t get or give any diseases because of the serum. Do you mind if we do without?” he looks unsure as he asks and continues before even giving Dean the chance to respond. “If it makes you uncomfortable I could go ask Natasha, I’m sure she keeps that kind of thing around… she’s very responsible…” 

“No!” Steve looks startled at Dean’s vehemence, seeming to be confused as to what exactly he’s objecting to. “I mean… it’s fine. Don’t bother Natasha… I’m sure Sam wouldn’t appreciate it.” Steve looks a little confused by this statement but Dean dismisses it, sliding over to sit up at the edge of the bed. “Nevermind. Doing without condoms is perfectly fine with me. Anyway, I want to be able to feel you with nothing between us… fucking me good and filling me up. Would you like that too, Cap? Would you like to feel your bare cock filling up my tight hole, milking you for all you’re worth?” 

Steve grabs Dean tightly by the back of his hair, crashing their lips together with a low growl. Dean lets their tongues dance as he takes the bottle of lube from Steve’s hand. He pulls back then and pops the cap on the lube, grasping Steve’s hand and pouring a generous amount on his first two fingers. He breathes heavily on Steve’s hand to warm up the lube a bit and then lies down again, head on the pillow and legs spread invitingly, a charming smile on his handsome face. “Come on, Cap… show me how you work that trigger finger.” 

Steve settles himself between Dean’s legs and grabs another pillow, giving Dean the single command, “Up,” before placing it under Dean’s hips to angle his pelvis up. Then he pulls Dean’s legs off the bed to settle them on either side of his lap and places his non-lubed hand on Dean’s hip to hold him in place as he circles Dean’s entrance with his slicked up finger, spreading the lube generously over the pucker before leaning over to kiss him as his finger breaches Dean’s rim. 

Steve takes his time with this, kissing Dean languorously as he loosens him up, one finger eventually giving way to two and before Dean knows it Steve’s working three fingers in and out of Dean’s ass, the Hunter’s breath coming short as he rolls his hips down with each upward thrust of Steve’s hand. 

“I’m ready. Please, Cap… I need you inside me. I can’t wait any longer.” Dean pulls Steve up by the shoulders and hikes his legs up further, wrapping them around Steve’s waist.

“Alright, sweetheart… you’ve been very patient, taking my fingers so well and being so good for me.” Dean absolutely melts at the praise, letting out an involuntary whimper at Steve’s words. He brings his hands up to claw at Steve’s back, showing his desperation as he attempts to pull the man to him. But apparently Steve has other ideas, tsking at Dean and pulling his arms to stretch above his head, holding them in place with one strong hand. “Who’s the Captain here, Dean? Who issues the commands?”

“You are, Cap… you issue the commands.” Dean feels what little blood that’s left in his head rush south with this exchange – his straining cock throbbing as his hole aches to be filled. 

“Then I command you to hold still, Dean. Can you do that for me, Darlin’? Can you obey me while I fill that greedy hole of yours? Can you continue to be good for me?” Dean nods fervently but by the expectant look on Steve’s face he can tell that the man wants a verbal response.

“Yes, Cap… yes. I can be good. Just please… please fuck me. Don’t make me wait any longer.” Steve doesn’t speak again before he lines up his big cock with Dean’s twitching entrance, pushing in with one long, smooth slide, burying himself to the hilt easily, the copious amounts of lube and the extensive fingering providing a velvety glide. 

“ _Dean…_ oh, Baby…” He only stays still for a few moments for he’s pulling back again, lips attacking Dean’s as he drags his cock in and out of him, speeding up a bit and angling Dean’s hips until he finds that spot that has Dean shouting, his eyes rolling back in his head. 

“Fuck! Right there! Right there, Cap… fuck me harder, please!” Steve lets go of Dean’s hands and grasps him by the shoulders, pulling them both up to a sitting position and grabbing Dean by the back of the head with one hand – crushing their mouths together in a filthy kiss—as his other hand lands possessively on Dean’s hip, using the leverage to drive his cock up into Dean at a punishing pace. 

Dean’s never been fucked this thoroughly before… he’s dripping in sweat, head spinning as that delicious heat pools low in his gut – and Jesus… Dean’s never come untouched before but he figures that there’s a first time for everything because he’s so close right now. 

“Gonna come, Cap… fuck! I’m so close!” Dean’s gasping now, finding it harder and harder to draw a full breath as he goes hurtling toward that precipice… ready to fall over with just the slightest push.

“Come now, Baby… come for me.” And he does… shooting his load between their stomachs and chests in strong spurts of creamy white. He thinks he might black out for a split second because the next thing he knows, Steve has stilled the movement of his hips – his rock-hard cock jerking inside Dean’s ass, pumping him full with his hot come. Steve still has a bruising grip on Dean’s hip and fingers held tightly to the short strands of Dean’s hair – both hands holding him in place as he muffles a shout by biting down on the juncture where Dean’s neck meets his shoulder. 

Dean feels absolutely boneless… mild stinging pains over several parts of his body feel like nothing more than tiny bug bites as he slumps over completely in Steve’s hold—the super soldier holding him tightly as they both come down from the high of their shared orgasms. 

“Sorry,” Steve says, a sheepish look on his face when Dean cracks one eye open to peer at him.

“Huh…?” Dean’s extremely confused by both the word spoken and the look that Steve’s giving him. What could he possibly be sorry for? Giving Dean the best sex of his life? Well, he supposes, he may be apologizing for ruining him for any other sex ever. Dean guesses that could account for an apology.

“I ah… I bit you.” He runs his fingers gently over the crook of Dean’s neck and yeah, that smarts. “I shouldn’t have done something like that without asking you first.”

“Eh, don’ worry ‘bout it. I’ve defin’ly had worse… this ‘s nothin’.” Dean is being sincere but it’s hard to sound convincing when he feels like he’s drunk – slurring his words and continuing to slump against Steve in exhaustion. He’s pretty sure if he stops talking or being talked to for ten seconds straight that he’ll pass out completely. 

“Alright.” Steve chuckles lightly and pitches Dean backward gently, laying his head on the pillow softly and kissing him lightly on the lips before sliding his softening cock out of Dean and rising from the bed to a standing position. 

Dean startles awake an indeterminate time later when he feels the drag of a warm wet washcloth cleaning up the sticky come covering his chest. He opens his eyes briefly when the feeling ceases, glancing up to find Steve staring fondly at him before he brings the washcloth down to gently swipe at Dean’s puffy hole. He knows that he should probably get up and get some clothes on – maybe even find his way to an empty room to spend the rest of the night, but he’s just too tired. 

He cooperates as Steve pulls the covers out from underneath him, scooting over at Steve’s urging to the other side of the bed so the man can lie in the spot that Dean has just vacated. He hears the switch on the lamp click and suddenly the room is cast into darkness. 

Dean doesn’t cuddle. It’s not that he doesn’t like it but he doesn’t think it’s an appropriate activity to engage in with a one-night-stand. Sure, hot dirty sex in the alley of a bar is one thing, but engaging in intimacy while completely vulnerable in sleep… that’s a totally different matter. Even so, he can’t bring himself to protest when Steve snuggles up behind him, throwing an arm over Dean and holding him close. “Goodnight, Dean.”

“Night, Steve.” Dean hopes that he won’t be feeling any regrets in the morning but even if he does, he can’t worry about that now. His eyelids have decided to close permanently, refusing to even consider opening again tonight so Dean just goes with it. He’ll resume thinking tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the third scene of this chapter Dean hallucinates being back in Hell. Dean is forced to mutilate Sam on the rack briefly before waking up from his grisly nightmare.


	6. We're Really Not So Different, You and I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of smut, a little bit of plot, and a little bit of bitter, bitter jealously... 'cause I just can't seem to help myself.

Most days Dean wakes up suddenly and completely, a lifetime of hunting having instilled in him the importance of being a light-sleeper. Even during that whole year living with Lisa, Dean hadn’t gotten out of the habit. It had actually been one of her biggest complaints – she’d been awoken on many occasions because Dean had heard the slightest noise and jumped up out of bed ready to decapitate a vamp or exorcise a demon. 

But this morning is different – Dean is so comfortable and feeling so content that he’s having a hard time even regaining full consciousness, floating so peacefully in that space between asleep and awake that he’s not even sure if what he’s experiencing isn’t actually a dream. 

He’s in a bed, that much he’s pretty sure of, cocooned in a pocket of warm fluffiness, cozier than he’s been in a long time. Now that he thinks about it, this probably is a dream. He feels happy and sated in a way that’s not usual for the Hunter. 

He vaguely recalls strong arms holding him tight, being dominated with passionate kisses by a partner with piercing blue eyes, a decidedly male voice whispering endearments to him while being fucked like a god-damn porn star. Yeah, definitely a dream, and a very good one at that.

And apparently the dream’s not over yet. The remembrance has him acutely aware that he’s naked, his half-hard cock rapidly swelling on its way to full hardness. This is also the point that he realizes that he’s not alone – the heavy weight on his waist is in fact an arm belonging to the warm body that is flush up against his back. 

He squirms a bit (eyes still closed – this is a dream after all), letting out a delicious combination of a hum and a moan when his ass rubs against a sizable erection, its owner tightening his arm around Dean’s waist and rolling his hips in an absolutely perfect grind. 

The hand on his stomach makes its way down, landing on Dean’s cock, stroking slowly but firmly until Dean is fully erect. He feels sucking kisses on his neck and a quick nibble on his ear before a low voice is growling in his ear. “ _Dean_ …” 

Oh, Dean remembers this dream. Of all the scenarios that his mind has come up with featuring him and Cas, this is one of his favorites – waking up in the arms of his angel, feeling loved and desired above anyone or anything else in all of existence. 

Dean can’t help the goofy smile that spreads slowly on his face, though it gives way quickly to another emphatic moan as the hand continues to stroke him, the hard length behind him smearing wetness along the cleft of his ass. “ _Oh… Cas_ …” 

“What did you just say?!” Dean’s eyes suddenly fly open as he’s rolled onto his back, an intimidating blonde looming above him, and it all comes flooding back to him – alternate universe, super heroes, super villains, super sex with one very sexy super soldier. Shit, this isn’t a dream, it’s very real and Dean just moaned another dude’s name. Time for some damage control, Dean.

“Um… Cap? Yeah, I said, ‘Oh… Cap…’” Steve may be blonde but he’s no ditzy barfly, Dean really has no hope of charming his way out of this one. Steve rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling. Dean mirrors his posture but then throws an arm over his eyes, cringing internally and wishing fervently that he could rewind the last five minutes and get a do-over. “Shit, I’m such a dick. I’m so sorry, Steve.” 

Steve heaves a great sigh and rolls over to face Dean, his head propped on his open palm as he looks at him. “It’s alright, Dean. I mean, I kind of had a feeling that something was going on between the two of you. But if that’s the case, why aren’t you with him instead of being here in my bed, with me?” 

Dean whips his arm down and away from his face to look wide-eyed at Steve, surprise evident in his expression. “What?! There’s nothing going on between me and Cas!” Steve just tilts his head down a bit and cocks one incredulous brow at Dean. He’s silent but the meaning is clear -- _Yeah, pull the other one, Dean_. 

It’s Dean’s turn to sigh now, turning his face back to the ceiling before speaking again. “Ok, look… I may be harboring certain um… _feelings_ … Jesus, I can’t believe I’m saying this… I just… I’ve got a thing for the guy, ok? It’s a one-way thing though. I mean, dude’s an angel! I don’t even think he can have feelings like that. And even if he could, what the hell would he want with someone like me?” 

Steve’s eyes are softened when Dean turns his attention back to him, a look of what he hopes isn’t pity, perhaps is understanding come over his face. “Let me show you something…” He turns to his nightstand and extracts his notebook, sitting up and leaning back on the pillows which are propped against the headboard. He beckons Dean to join him, and he does, snuggling up next to Steve with his head resting on one very muscular shoulder. 

“Like I said before, I don’t show this to many people…” He opens the book to the first sketch – an image of Tony in his metal suit, hovering mid-air, one hand facing palm-out in front of him ready to blast his repulsor beam at anyone who dares to cross him. Steve turns the page and it’s another image of Tony, this time sitting in his lab tinkering with some small mechanical bits at a table, a look of determination on his handsome face. He turns the page again and once more there’s an image of Tony, fully decked out in a tuxedo, holding a glass of champagne and laughing with such warmth shining out of his dark eyes. 

Steve keeps turning pages and one after the next it’s always Tony, sketched in different ways but always so alive, so beautiful in a way that Dean can tell there’s love behind every line, every stroke of the pencil a proclamation of care and devotion. It’s actually quite humbling to see and Dean realizes that there is a point here, Steve is trying to tell him that he understands how Dean is feeling because he feels the same way himself. 

“Steve…” Dean looks up at Steve but his attention is fixed on the page before him, thumb lightly stroking over the image of Tony’s face. 

“I understand, Dean, I do. I know how it feels to have someone on your mind all the time with no hope that your feelings will ever be returned.” 

“So you two have never…” Dean trails off, leaving the implication clear.

“No. He has a girlfriend, Pepper… a really great gal too – smart, beautiful, kind. Besides, even if he didn’t, I’ve never seen him show any interest toward men. How would I even stand a chance?” He finally stops gazing at the image on the paper, turning his head to look at Dean, an expression of hopelessness etched on his beautiful face. 

“Hey, it's his loss, man. Here, give me that…” Dean takes the notebook from Steve, but as the pages fall, the last image catches his eye. It’s only a rough sketch but he can tell that it’s his own face looking back at him, his eyes clear and a slight smirk on his full lips. 

“I hope you don’t mind, I mean, it’s only from memory but I didn’t ask you if I could…” Dean cuts him off with a kiss, closing the notebook and tossing it lightly on the nightstand. He deepens the kiss and Steve responds in kind, cupping Dean’s face in his hand and gently pushes him down onto his back, situating himself between Dean’s legs before breaking the kiss and holding himself up by both hands so that he can get a good look at Dean. “If this is how you’re going to react then I’ll be sure to keep sketching you.” He smiles down at Dean who returns it with his own cheeky grin, so Steve goes back to kissing him.

Dean allows the kissing to continue for a few minutes but pulls back before things can get too heated. “So you’re ok with this then?” He gestures between them before going on. “I mean, you want to keep up this… whatever this is between us, even though we’re both basically pining for someone else. You’re alright with that?” 

Steve leans down and starts kissing Dean’s neck, small little kisses interspersed with nibbles and licks and Dean is starting to forget that he had asked a question, but Steve leans back again to answer anyway. “Yes, Dean, I’m ok with this. It’s not like you’re planning on staying here anyway. What we have together only ever had the option of being temporary and I knew that going into this. But it’s lonely sometimes and you’re awfully beautiful, I figured I might as well make the most of the time we have.” 

“Well, in that case…” Dean surges forward and grabs Steve by the back of the neck, bringing their lips together in a bruising kiss. Making the most of the time he has is something that Dean Winchester excels at. This isn’t exactly like his countdown to becoming a Hellhound’s chew toy but that just means that he can enjoy it even more this time. 

Steve responds enthusiastically, invading Dean’s mouth with his hot, wet tongue. He reaches down and pulls Dean’s leg up, encouraging him to wrap both legs around Steve’s waist. Steve reaches down again, this time to grab Dean’s ass in one strong hand, using the leverage to grind their hips together. 

“Mmm… yeah, baby… come on. Is this what you want? Just like this?” Steve responds to Dean’s words by attacking his neck, kissing and licking while he continues to grind their hard cocks together, leaking pre-come helping to ease the slide. “Or maybe you want something else, huh? You want to fuck me again? Stick that massive cock of yours in my ass, fuck me so hard I can’t remember my own name?” 

Steve groans and plunders Deans mouth again, kissing him until he can’t breathe before pulling back. “My God, Dean, your filthy mouth.” 

“Oh, so it’s my mouth you want? You want me to suck you off? Maybe let you fuck my face?” Dean smirks at Steve though the blonde can’t see it because he has his forehead resting against Dean’s neck, hiding his face from the Hunter. Dean’s pretty sure that the super soldier isn’t used to hearing such dirty language from his bedmates. It’s actually kind of adorable to see, reminding him once again of his fantasies – the dream of corrupting the innocence of a certain blue-eyed beauty has long been one of the many reasons why Dean is sure that he’s going back to Hell one day. 

Though Dean is ready to do any and all of the aforementioned activities, Steve is prevented from making a request by the sound of quick knocking before the bedroom door is thrown open. Natasha walks in like she owns the place while Sam hangs back, looking embarrassed beyond belief at walking in on his big brother having sex (it’s a look he’s perfected by now though, having had the opportunity to practice it on so, so many occasions). 

“Jesus, lady, just come right on in, why don’t ya,” Dean says. “It’s not like we were in the middle of something here.” Steve rolls off of Dean and they both sit up, making sure to keep the covers over both of their laps. “Sam, you should know better by now.”

“Believe me, Dean, I warned her.” Dean glares at Natasha but she just rolls her eyes before speaking.

“It’s not like you two haven’t had plenty of alone time already. We could hear you going at it all the way down the hall last night.” Dean smirks at this but Steve ducks his head, hiding his blush and rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “And we weren’t the only ones.” 

That gets Steve’s attention pretty quickly. He snaps his head up at looks at Natasha. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that everyone is down in the kitchen having breakfast right now and talking about the porno that was apparently being filmed in your room last night, by the sound of things.” She gives Steve a very pointed glare that has him visibly cringing a bit. 

“Everyone?” The question sounds timid and more than a little bit guilty and Dean can empathize. He’s not particularly looking forward to facing the team with the realization that they all know what he sounds like when he comes. Oh shit, Cas. Cas now knows exactly what Dean sounds like when he’s being fucked into the mattress. He hopes he hasn’t traumatized the poor angel. 

“Everyone. Now get your depraved asses out of bed and down to the kitchen. You have to face them eventually and the more quickly you get down there, the more quickly we can talk about where we’re at with stopping our least favorite Asgardian and his body snatching bff.” She gives a slight shake of her head before turning to leave, passing by Sam who is also looking at the pair like a disappointed father. 

“What, Sam? Do you have something to add?” Dean’s starting to get a bit pissed now. He doesn’t understand why he’s being scolded like a puppy who peed on the rug. He knows that Sam and Natasha hooked up last night too, how’s that any different? 

“No, Dean. I have nothing to add.” He’s shaking his head as well as he closes the door behind him, leaving the two alone in the bedroom.

“I guess we’d better get dressed and join the group,” Steve says, looking like it’s the last thing that he actually wants to do. Dean understands but agrees nonetheless, knowing that facing shitty situations is best approached liked ripping off a proverbial band-aid – just get that shit done as fast as possible. 

“Yeah, we’d better.” They take turns using the bathroom, taking the time to clean up a bit with soap and washcloth but not actually showering. Dean gets a good look at the bite mark and dark hickey on his neck, wondering what Cas will do when he sees them. He still doesn’t understand why he healed the mark he had yesterday, maybe it was just habit? 

They waste no time while getting dressed, only taking a quick moment to exchange a mostly chaste kiss. In the next moment though, Steve’s gaze lingers on Dean’s neck and he quirks a bit of a devious smile, giving Dean a heated look before grabbing him by the ass and pulling him in, sucking a kiss on the already prominent marks. 

“Alright, Captain. You start that shit again and we’ll never leave this room. Knock it off and let’s go.” Steve rests his forehead against Dean’s shoulder and lets out a sigh before raising it again and nodding his agreement. Dean turns him around and gives him a slight shove out into the hallway before closing the door behind them. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There’s definitely some tension amongst the group in the kitchen when the boys finally arrive but Dean’s happy to see that not everyone seems to be varying shades of pissed off. Clint and Other Sam are both smirking and looking amused while Thor is honestly beaming at them. He stands up when they enter the room and spreads his arms wide, greeting them magnanimously like prodigal sons. 

“My friends! It is so good to see you looking so hale! After the exuberance of last night’s consummation I had feared you may be incapacitated this morning. Such an enthusiastic bought of fornication can be quite exhausting, can it not?” He looks around the group for agreement, being met with glares from some (Cas, Tony), practiced indifference from others (Sam, Natasha), and obvious mirth from the last (Clint, Other Sam). Steve and Dean both shoot each other nervous glances before turning back to look at Thor.

“Um, it sure can, buddy!” Dean slaps Thor on the arm and is quick in an attempt to change the subject. “So, where’s the coffee!?” He slaps his hands and them rubs them together, nodding his thanks when Clint gestures toward the coffee pot on the counter. He walks over and pours himself a cup, turning back around and leaning against the counter while he sips at the too-hot brew. He chances a glance at Cas and the angel is looking back at him, lips thinned in a grimace as his eyes narrow, zeroing in on the marks on Dean’s neck. Yep, he’s pretty sure that those babies won’t last the day. With the way Cas is looking at him, he wouldn’t be surprised if the angel was trying to heal them from across the room… either that or he’s debating whether or not to just smite Dean here and now so he doesn’t have to deal with the human’s bullshit anymore. 

Steve plucks an apple out of the fruit bowl on the kitchen island, rolling it between his hands as he addresses the group. “So, where are we at? Has anyone had any ideas about how to move forward? Tony, has there been any sign of Meg or Loki in your facial recognition programs?” 

“Nope. No sign of Thing One or Thing Two anywhere so far. Seems like they’re laying low for now. Probably planning their next nefarious plot.” Tony has his own cup of coffee that he’s cradling in one hand while he walks around the room, giving Dean the impression of a jungle cat on the prowl. He comes to a stop next to Cas, placing his free hand on the angel’s shoulder. Dean’s grip on his coffee mug tightens dangerously, the muscle in his jaw clenching while said hand continues to linger as Tony resumes speaking. “Feathers here has had an idea about what to do when we do find them though.” 

“Feathers?” Dean cocks an eyebrow at Cas who has a bit of sheepish expression on his face as he glances around somewhat nervously. 

“Yeah, Cassie here and I have become quite close… haven’t we, Angel?” Ok, now Dean’s officially pissed. He holds the selfish belief that only he is allowed to give Cas nicknames (he wants to stick an angel blade in Balthazar’s face every time he calls Cas ‘Cassie’) so Tony’s not winning any points by not only giving Cas two nicknames but also referring to him as ‘Angel’. Nicknames are one thing but terms of endearments?? Them’s fighten’ words! 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!” Dean slams his coffee mug down a little bit harder than he had intended, the steaming liquid sloshing over the sides and onto the counter. He stands up to his full height and straightens his shoulders, glaring between Cas and Tony as everyone else in the room takes a subconscious step back, making room for the furious Hunter. 

Tony drops his hand from Cas’s shoulder but doesn’t back down, straightening up himself and matching Dean glare for glare. “It _means_ that neither he nor I sleep very much, as it turns out, so while some people around here were spending their time _fucking_ around last night, Cas and I were working to find a way to thwart some evil plans. What ideas have you come up with, Dean? Are you going to seduce them? Offer to give them both a turn on ‘Dean’s Wild Ride’ if they’ll just agree to stop with that pesky villainy?” 

“Actually, knowing my brother, that might not be a completely terrible idea. Loki has been known to be susceptible to a certain type of flirtatious charm and aesthetically pleasing countenance.” Dean can’t tell for sure but he thinks Thor is being completely serious here… actually, he’s not sure if Thor is physically capable of making a joke.

“There you go, Dean… Loki likes an easy piece of ass! Sounds like a job that’s tailor made just for you!” Dean’s about done with Tony right about now. That metal suit of death is all that’s stopping him from taking a swing at the mouthy bastard. Steve and Sam both look like they’re about to step in as well but it’s Cas who ends the confrontation, stating in no uncertain terms that Dean seducing Loki is absolutely not on the table.

“NO. Dean will _not_ be offering himself to the trickster. I forbid it.” He takes a step forward, clenching his fists and looking fit to smite if anyone should dare to oppose him. 

“You _forbid_ it?” Dean knows that there’s really no reason to be standing up to Cas like this, it’s not like he actually wants to try fucking a dangerous god into submission. But he just can’t help but get his dander up at the thought of anyone forbidding him to do anything – especially Cas… what right does the angel have to tell Dean that he can’t have sex with Loki? It’s not like Cas is Dean’s boyfriend or something. 

Steve puts his hand on Dean’s arm in a calming gesture, ignoring the murderous glare that Cas throws his way. “Ok, why don’t we all just calm down a bit here. Tony, didn’t you say that the two of you had come up with an idea?” 

Tony is still looking mighty pissed but at Steve’s words he just folds his arms and defers to Cas instead. Cas takes a moment to visibly calm himself, unclenching his fists and taking a step back before he explains. “As I’ve explained before… the biblical concepts of Heaven and Hell do not exist in this universe – it’s why we can’t use most traditional methods in defeating the demon Meg. But, because both her and my powers still work here, for the most part, there must be some magical source from whence we draw our powers.” He looks around the group to make sure that they’re all following him before he continues. “With the obvious existence of two Asgardian gods, Thor and Loki, I believe that the magic of Norse mythology reigns on this plane and is the vehicle through which we tap into our abilities. Therefore, if we are able to find applicable spells or weapons of the Norse tradition, we may find a way to stop both Meg and Loki before they can accomplish whatever plans of death and destruction they have in mind.”

And yeah, that actually does make a lot of sense, Dean thinks. Maybe it will even be easier than it usually is for Team Free Will to defeat these two if they can find some wacky Norse methods, especially with one of their most powerful gods on their side. Dean’s starting to feel pretty optimistic now and he can tell by looking around at the other faces in the room that he’s not the only one. No one looks confused and everyone is nodding along in agreement as Cas’s speech comes to a close. 

“Alright then,” Dean says. “So what do we do first?” 

“Research,” Sam puts in, looking at Dean who, yeah, he knew that was coming but it never hurts to think just once that he won’t have to hit the books before a hunt. It could happen… right? 

“Yeah, ok, but we don’t all have to be in on this part, right," Clint asks. "I mean, I’m much more into the execution part of the plan as opposed to the actual plan-making part. Why don’t we split up into two groups – a few of us can hit the books, so to speak, while the rest of us can hit the training room. It wouldn’t hurt to practice fighting together.” Dean thinks that Clint makes several excellent points and he can’t help but jump at the chance to be in that second group.

“Yes! Absolutely! Sam, why don’t you, Cas, and Thor get into planning mode while the rest of us get some training in?” Dean thinks this is an excellent plan and he’s all but physically jumping at the chance to see Steve in action again… not to mention getting to test out new and exciting weapons himself. 

“Yeah, sure, Dean. But why doesn’t Cas go with you and Natasha can help with the research instead?” Natasha is already nodding her agreement, seemingly completely on board with this change in plans.

“Yes, Dean… I do believe I would rather go with you to the training room.” Cas’s statement comes out a bit wooden but he doesn’t seem to be averse to Sam’s suggestion. Dean’s pretty sure that the angel’s determined to go wherever Dean goes though so he doesn’t push the issue. “I am not very familiar with Norse mythology actually, so I believe my time would be better spent observing everyone’s fighting styles.” He’s speaks this last to Dean but he’s looking squinty-eyed and thoughtful at Steve while he says it.

“Sure, Cas, you can come with us.” He’s kind of disappointed that Cas isn’t going into research mode with Sam, not really trusting the angel around Steve or Tony – the former may be in actual danger of being smited while the latter Dean just plain doesn’t want near Cas. He doesn’t trust the dark-eyed man or his apparent affinity for the angel – the farther apart those two are, the better, as far as Dean is concerned. 

“Ok,” Steve says. “I guess the rest of us will be in the training room. Let us know when you find anything useful.” Steve directs Dean to a pile of buttered toast on the counter, indicating to him to grab a few slices while he hands Dean a bottle of water out of the fridge and takes one for himself as well. He adds another apple and a couple of bananas to his haul before leading the way. Dean can’t remember the last time he ate so the food is definitely welcome. 

Dean follows Steve, stuffing toast in his mouth, with Cas hot on his heels. He thinks he can feel a tingling sort of anticipation coming off the angel, a feeling almost akin to the electrical energy that Cas expends on entering a room sometimes. It doesn’t particularly bode well for the impending ‘training’ that Cas and Steve will be partaking in. With the last of the toast crammed in his mouth he gives Cas a nervous glance, but the angel isn’t looking back at him – his gaze is laser-focused on the back of Steve’s head and yeah, this probably won’t end very well at all.


	7. Training Exercise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this chapter isn't super long but it's sort of eventful. 
> 
> Side note: all of the Norse mythology in this chapter (and basically in this whole work, besides the Marvel cannon stuff, of course) was found with a quick Google search. The spell is made up but the ingredients, as well as the rest of the stuff was taken from the interwebs so I apologize if I got anything wrong but it should at least make sense in the context of this work. 
> 
> Also, if anyone is curious or confused, I'd like to take a moment to mention that each scene contains a singular POV. It's not always the same (though it's usually Dean's, and this chapter is Cas's). Because of this, the names with which the inner voice refers to the other characters changes. For example, Castiel refers to himself as 'Castiel', while Dean refers to him as 'Cas'. And as you can see, in this chapter, most of the Avengers are referred to by their super-hero names. Though Cas is a bit bitchy toward one particular team member so that shows as well. Anyway, I hope that explains that... in case anyone was wondering... though they probably weren't... I tend to over-explain... yeah, I know, it's annoying. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“Are you intentionally making this easy for me, or are you just being lazy?” Hawkeye lets another arrow fly, hitting the flying target easily, and right in the dead center.

“I just thought you might need to ease back into the swing of things, Farmer Jones.” Castiel watches as Falcon flies around the large open room, holding a thick, padded target in one hand – his mechanical wings allowing for much more gracefulness and agility than Castiel had thought possible. 

Stark had explained to him, last night, that all of the Avengers had code names (or superhero names he had said they were also called) that the general public used to refer to them. He had also explained that the team used these special names when speaking to each other during missions – though that rule wasn’t absolute, as they also sometimes referred to each other by their given names, especially Tony, who was usually just called ‘Stark’ – the ‘Iron Man’ moniker being seldom used. It was all rather confusing to Castiel, though he could understand the practice. He was, after all, almost never referred to as ‘Castiel’ anymore – the nickname that Dean had bestowed upon him was much more common these days. 

And speaking of Dean… Castiel turns his attention away from the bantering pair, his gaze zeroing in on the Hunter, engaged in what appears to be a mostly concerted effort (at least on Dean’s part) of sparring on the other side of the room. He would be more concerned – Dean’s safety being paramount in his personal priorities – but Stark had also spent some time last night telling Castiel all about Rogers’ (he refused to refer to the man as ‘Cap’ or even ‘Captain’, regardless of the etiquette involved in the situation) history and personality. 

The historical videos he had watched and the anecdotal stories that Stark had told him had been enough to show Castiel that Rogers probably wouldn’t intentionally physically harm Dean, but of course that doesn’t exclude possible emotional damage. Castiel suspects that Rogers must be employing some sort of manipulation tactics – he can’t imagine anyone but Dean himself being so easily and instantly able to make himself irresistible without the use of underhanded methods. 

Dean swears that Rogers isn’t a non-human monster but perhaps he’s a witch? Witches are human after all, and that would explain Dean’s inexplicable infatuation with the man. 

“Hey, Scrooge McSmite…” Castiel turns again – this time to focus on Stark. The man is standing next to a high-tech stereo system. He taps on the display for a moment before loud music starts blasting out of hidden speakers throughout the room. 

The song sounds familiar and Castiel glances quickly at Dean when the Hunter loudly exclaims, “Fuck Yeah,” and starts enthusiastically bouncing his head up and down in time to the music. And now Castiel remembers – he had been in the Impala once before when this song had come on. Dean had been quick to turn up the volume and sing along. It’s a fond memory for Castiel – it’s rare to see the Hunter so happy. Castiel can count on one hand the amount of times that Dean has smiled like that since he’s known him. 

“Cas, wipe that goofy look off your face and come over here.” Stark’s voice yanks Castiel out of his trip down memory lane and forces his attention back onto the dark-eyed man. At this point he can’t help but be inclined to listen to Stark. He may look nothing like Dean, but from what Castiel’s observed of him, the two share many similar traits. 

Both outward characteristics (his propensity to use levity in serious situations as well as his habit of assigning nicknames to everyone he speaks to – along with his general outward show of confidence, and now his preference for classic rock music) and also his more inward nature (he has spoken most highly of his team-mates, though the praise had been delivered with jocularity and a heavy dose of snark) reminds Castiel so much of his favorite human that he can’t help but instinctively want to please the other man. 

Castiel knows that Stark is not Dean and that no one could ever mean to him what Dean means to him. But at least he’s a distraction – something to focus on so that he doesn’t make an angel blade pin cushion out of a certain overstepping super soldier. 

Castiel shakes off his internal musings and goes to join Stark, curious as to what the man wants him to do. 

“So, since you can’t really hurt me while I’m in this suit – at least, not without using your high-five of death, or whatever it is that you do to burn the crap out of anyone who crosses you… remind me not to get on your bad side, by the way…” Castiel quirks his head to the side a bit while he tries to parse Stark’s long winded rambling. Castiel’s description of his angel powers had been another thing that they had talked about last night – it looks like Stark had been paying attention after all… well, mostly at least… he thinks. “… I figure you can use your super-special angel teleportation powers to help me improve my reflexes. Both Loki and Meg can perform that particular party trick – or at least something similar – and I, for one, would like to be a bit more prepared.” 

Castiel nods his assent. He can respect this line of reasoning. And besides… he certainly doesn’t intend to sit on the sidelines while Rogers flaunts his (admittedly impressive) fighting skills. Castiel wants to impress Dean too, even though that isn’t something that he’d comfortably admit to the Hunter. 

He begins to do as Stark had asked – appearing directly in front of, behind, or to the side of the man in his metal suit as he flies from spot to spot on the training room floor (even though he could technically fly, Castiel couldn’t appear mid-air without plummeting to the ground – as he had explained to Stark the night before – so their bouts were necessarily ground-level). He soon mostly loses himself to the action, the flying takes a bit of concentration as does the fighting itself. He can’t really punch or sword fight Stark’s armor to much effect but he can try to throw the man off-balance and he has to put in a real effort to avoid the repulsor blasts. He could heal himself if need be but it’s always better to avoid damage to his vessel if it can be helped. 

He keeps one ear and one eye on the sparring going on between Dean and Rogers though, so he shouldn’t be surprised when he hears something that he doesn’t like, the whispered “Is that all you’ve got for me, Darlin’? I had thought you’d be up for a bit more action…” traveling from Rogers’ mouth to Castiel’s ear like the burning pain of an angel blade, causing him to lose focus on his current situation enough to be hit with a timely aimed repulsor blast. The blast isn’t particularly damaging – the healing of flesh and repairing of clothing is accomplished almost instantly, but what really boils his blood is that Dean hadn’t even noticed that he had been hit. The Hunter is continuing to partake in his supposed sparring (though at this point the pair look more like they’re dancing, or perhaps wrestling very haphazardly) and isn’t even sparing a glance Castiel’s way. 

He can’t help it… He’d been hoping that he’d be able to control himself but he really can’t help it. He’s across the room with his angel blade in hand, gently moving Dean out of the way and confronting Rogers as if the man were a demon sent from Lucifer himself to personally torment Castiel. He knows that he can’t kill the man – he doesn’t think that Dean would forgive him for ending him here and now – but that doesn’t mean that he can’t get in a little bit of sparring of his own.

He can tell right away that Rogers is prepared for this. The first slice of his angel blade is quickly and easily blocked by Rogers’ shield before the super soldier is fighting back with his own forward motion, a punch to Castiel’s jaw that sends the angel reeling back a bit. 

He redoubles his efforts, clashing his blade with the shield twice more before it’s knocked out of his hand and sent clattering across the room. Rogers is strong, enhanced to the point that his strength and speed rival even an angel’s abilities – but Castiel has rage on his side. He grabs ahold of Rogers’ shield and rips it out of the man’s powerful grip and then he chucks it across the room, barely missing Hawkeye who manages to duck out of the way at the last second. 

“Cas! What the hell, man?!” Castiel knows what Dean is saying to him but he refuses to respond or even acknowledge that he’s heard the startled Hunter. He can’t find it in him to stop his attack on Rogers until the man is at least a bit broken and bloody at his feet. He will not be the weaker man here… he absolutely refuses. 

They’re down to literal hand-to-hand combat at this point, nothing between the two but Rogers’ unwavering determination and Castiel’s righteous indignation – punch for punch matched in a whirling dance that if not meant to kill is at least meant to damage. 

Castiel is the one in the right here, he’s sure of it. Just who does Rogers think he is, strolling in and inserting himself into Dean’s life like it’s his God-given right?! Castiel is supposed to be the one that gets to stand too close to Dean. He’s supposed to be the one that the Hunter turns to when he’s in trouble… to be his protector and his friend. Castiel is the one who raised him from Perdition… he’s the one who gave up everything to help Dean avert the apocalypse, the one’s who’s still doing everything that he can to stop a second attempt that would put the Winchesters right back into the position that they were in over a year ago. So why can’t he be the one that Dean choses to share his most intimate self with? Why can’t it be Castiel’s name that Dean screams in the throes of passion in the middle of the night? 

Castiel comes back to himself an unknown amount of time later when a well-aimed repulsor blast knocks him back several feet and has him staring up at the high ceiling, trying to gain control over the all-too human emotions that are swirling around inside his vessel. He risks a glance at Rogers – the man is kneeling down, doubled over on himself and clutching at his midsection – but he’s soon distracted by Stark who is hovering in the air between him and the other man, repulsor aimed directly at Castiel’s face. 

“Just hold your horses there, Mike Tyson. I think we can all understand how you’re feeling right now but you might want to take a minute to just breathe and realize that Steve isn’t your enemy here. Beating the ever-loving shit out of him isn’t going to win you any Brownie points from everyone’s favorite lumberjack. Also… well, I don’t know how to break this to you but you might want to know that your very intense cat is now officially out of the bag…” Castiel looks at Stark curiously at this last statement… what is the man talking about? Castiel has no cat. “… From your lack of hyperventilating or sudden panicked skedaddling, I’m pretty sure that you haven’t yet realized that all of that stuff that you thought you’ve just been internally ranting was in-fact outwardly ranted to this whole fine assemblage here.” 

And oh, please God, no… Castiel can feel his stomach jump up into his throat as panic begins to course through his vessel when he looks at Dean – the man is just standing there with his jaw dropped down, his eyes as wide as Castiel has ever seen them before. 

“I… I… I don’t know what to say…” Castiel’s voice sounds small and weak even to his own ears. 

“Oh, _now_ he doesn’t know what to say.” Hawkeye’s voice registers somewhere behind Castiel but he can’t find it in him to tear his gaze away from Dean’s face. 

“He certainly had a lot to say a few minutes ago.” Falcon’s comment isn’t lost on Castiel either but there’s just one person who’s reaction Castiel is awaiting in quiet terror. He wonders if he can time travel in this universe? Though, it would be highly suspicious if another version of himself were to show up just minutes before, telling himself to stop what he’s doing without being able to explain to the group why. Maybe he could quickly and quietly alter everyone’s memory a bit? Though Dean has told him numerous times to ‘stay out of his head’ so he’s pretty sure that memory alteration would be frowned upon by the Hunter should he ever find out that it happened. 

Castiel’s silent strategizing is abruptly interrupted by a loud groan from Rogers. It manages to break through whatever mental glitching that Dean seems to be experiencing as well because the shocked Hunter also turns toward the sound of Rogers’ voice, confusion and concern etched into his handsome features. 

And, ok, Castiel can admit that he may have been just a smidge too aggressive in his sparring with Rogers. He actually looks like he might be suffering from a bit of internal bleeding actually… maybe Castiel should do something about that? This realization brings Castiel back to his feet and he’s striding purposefully toward the kneeling man, two fingers outstretched as he closes in. 

Rogers peeks up at Castiel, a look of fear overtaking his expression before he brings an arm up to cover his bruised and bleeding face.

“Cas!” Dean is shouting to Castiel and rushing to intercept the angel – clearly believing that he means more harm to the broken man. 

“Get out of my way, Dean. I only wish to heal him.” Irritation is evident in Castiel’s voice but the blind fury must be gone from his expression because Dean backs down, allowing Castiel to press those two fingers to Rogers’ forehead, healing him completely and cleaning away the blood from his uniform as well. 

“Cas, what the hell, man?” Dean is looking at Castiel again, utter bewilderment the dominant expression on his face as he waits for Castiel to give him an answer to a question that the angel isn’t entirely sure he understands himself. 

“My apologies, Dean. I seem to have gotten carried away in my attempt to partake in this ‘training exercise’.” He doesn’t use the finger quotes this time, he’s not sure that the action would be appropriate in the current situation. 

“You know that’s not what I mean, Cas. I mean… of course your avenging angel act was completely out of line and there’s no excuse for treating Steve like that… But you know that’s not what I’m talking about right now.” Castiel averts his gaze to the floor, hoping against hope that Dean won’t mention his apparently very vocal tirade. “What was all that you said while you were in rabid dog mode? Is that really what you think? Is that actually how you feel?” 

Castiel shoots his gaze back up to Dean’s expectant face – he can’t really believe that Dean ‘Doesn’t do Chick-Flick Moments’ Winchester is actually asking about Castiel’s feelings right now. But the look isn’t going away and the question hangs in the air between the two, and Castiel needs to decide fast if he’s going to tell Dean the truth or if he’s going to try to come up with yet another lie to give his trusting friend. 

“Yes. That’s truly how I feel, Dean.” He decides that finally, at least in this, he’s going to be completely honest with the man. He knows that it won’t end well but he just can’t keep it to himself a moment longer. Ever since he’d arrived in this world and saw the way that Dean was drawn to Rogers – the genuine and irrefutable way in which his treasured human cleaved to the other man – he couldn’t help but long to reveal his true and complete feelings to the Hunter. 

“But, why?! Why the hell would you feel like that about me?” Castiel is confused now. Does Dean really not know the effect that he has on the angel? Or perhaps is his question meant more as a chastisement for Castiel’s desires? He’s stuck again between being compelled to answer his stated question and instinctively wanting to apologize for the possible slight. He ends up doing neither, instead resolving to wait until Dean makes his query clear. 

“I mean… I’m me… and you… you’re you!” _Well, that doesn’t clear anything up,_ Castiel thinks. “You’re a freakin’ angel, Cas! Why the hell would you want to feel that way about a shitty human like me?” 

Oh, now Castiel understands – Dean is having one of his ‘I’m not worthy’ fits. When will the man understand that he absolutely is worthy? That in Castiel’s eyes, there is no other more worthy than him… no angel, and especially no other human has ever been or will ever be worth more than Dean Winchester. 

“Dean, please… you’ve got to know…” 

“No, Cas. This isn’t right. You deserve better than some jumped up Hunter with thousands of pounds of baggage weighing you down.” 

“I think I deserve to make my own decisions in this…”

“I destroy everything I touch, Cas! I’ve let down everyone I’ve ever cared about – you included! How could you possibly think that feeling that way about me could ever be a good idea?” 

“Dean, I…” 

“Friends! We come bearing news!” Castiel is starting to wonder if he’ll ever get the chance to finish a sentence when Thor, Sam, and Widow enter the room – Thor exclaiming boisterously as if the others were just waiting around to hear from the Asgardian. 

“Um… sorry to interrupt but we actually do have some information that we think everyone should know about. But I suppose it could wait a bit if you’re in the middle of something here…” Sam looks contrite. He’s obviously aware that their interruption is impeding his brother’s attempt at a somewhat mature conversation – even though Dean’s exasperation and dismissal of Castiel’s revelations are anything but mature. “Or we could come back if you want a few minutes to talk privately?” 

“No, Sam, it’s fine. We’ve said all there needs to be said on the subject. What have you got for us?” Castiel absolutely disagrees with Dean’s assessment of the situation but he knows that it’s no use to press the issue further at this time. Dean’s downright refusal to deal with certain uncomfortable situations is much more familiar to Castiel than his earlier openness. He’s going to have to think about how to make Dean understand why he’s wrong and why he should listen to Castiel and try to validate the angel’s opinions and desires. He’s really not sure how he’s going to accomplish this task… the Hunter can be extremely obstinate at times. 

“Well, we’ve come up with a couple of ideas on how to stop Meg and Loki. We’ve found a Norse spell to banish a member of the dishonorable dead to the Niflheim – that’s the World of Fog and Mist… it’s basically the Hell of this universe. The ingredients are pretty straight forward… eagle talons, bark of an ash tree and acorns from an oak tree, cat bones, and falcon feathers. The only thing that might be difficult to obtain is dragon scales, but we were hoping that Cas might be able to find them. Thor had a few ideas on how he can go about doing that.”

Castiel has already switched to planning mode, this… whatever this thing is with Dean placed on the metaphorical back-burner for the time being. He nods his understanding at Sam and the man continues with his speech.

“It shouldn’t harm Wanda – she’s neither dead nor dishonorable so we expect that the spell will just expel Meg from Wanda’s body and leave her soul alone where it belongs. That’s not to say there won’t be lasting emotional damage. But Natasha assures us that Wanda is a strong person, both physically and mentally, so we’re hoping that with the help of all of you – her friends – that she’ll eventually be able to come to terms with what has happened to her.” That reminder seems to sober everyone up pretty quickly. 

“And what about Loki?” Rogers is back in ‘Captain mode’, Castiel notices. The man is standing tall with his shoulders squared and his feet planted firmly on the ground. He has his shield back in hand again as well. 

“Loki will be more difficult to deal with but we’ve had an idea for managing him as well.” Sam defers to Thor at this point, the Asgardian stepping forward again and addressing the small assembly. 

“There was a time when we had to devise a way of subduing the great wolf, Fenrir. Two times did we try to hold Fenrir with mighty chains and two times did he break free. So we went to the Dwarves of Svartálfaheim and commissioned them to construct Gleipnir, a silken rope that, though delicate in appearance, was made of impossible things and therefore impossible to break. Now, we can’t retrieve that particular rope, but I believe that we will be able to reconstruct its design to create another identical rope that will bind my brother so that he will cease to cause harm to anyone, both here and back at our home in Asgard.”

“What kind of impossible things are we talking about,” Dean asks.

Sam clears his throat before reading off of a scrap of paper in his hand. “The six impossible ingredients are: the sound of a cat’s walk, the beard of a woman, the roots of a mountain, the sinews of a bear, the breath of a fish, and the spittle of a bird.” Dean scoffs at his brother’s words before sighing and running a hand down his face. 

“Ok,” he says. “A few of those seem doable but, ‘the roots of a mountain?’ The sound of a cat’s walk?’ What the hell does that even mean?” His frustration is evident and Castiel thinks that Dean makes a good point. Even he doesn’t really have any idea how to obtain these types of ingredients. 

“I have experience with these riddles,” Thor puts in. “I am confident that I will be able to successfully acquire all that we shall need to build this tool.” 

“Well, great! So, what the hell are we waiting for? Cas, Thor, why don’t you two fly off on your exceptionally weird milk run while the rest of us keep busy until you get back? Natasha, do you know where a guy could get his hands on a shotgun shell packer? Or a shotgun and some shells for that matter? We need to make some salt rounds.” Dean is already walking quickly toward the exit before Natasha nods slowly and makes a hesitant _follow me_ gesture to the man. But Castiel feels uncomfortable leaving their previous conversation unmentioned before he leaves. 

“Dean… we’ll finish our conversation later.” 

“No, Cas. Our ‘conversation’ is already finished.” He doesn’t elaborate any further before following Widow out of the room, Sam falling into line behind him with one last sympathetic look thrown Castiel’s way. Their conversation is most definitely _not_ over but Castiel doesn't want another fruitless argument at this moment so he lets Dean's statement go without any comment of his own.

Falcon and Hawkeye follow as well though it’s unclear to Castiel if they mean to accompany the trio or if they’re just vacating the premises. Rogers seems to think better than to follow Dean – the recent events making him wary of crossing Castiel any further, at least not so soon, he suspects. Instead he follows Stark out through a different door. Their destination is unknown but Castiel’s pretty sure that the lab is where Stark will end up. 

“So, are you ready, my friend? It is up to us to obtain the necessary tools to defeat my brother and your demon.” Meg isn’t ‘Castiel’s demon’ but he doesn’t bother pointing this out to the god. He’s observed that the Asgardian is almost equally as bad as himself at recognizing and properly utilizing human terminology. 

“Yes. For now let’s use my flight powers – it’s much quicker and I can bring you with me wherever we may need to go.” Thor nods his acquiescence and with a destination uttered by the god, Castiel places a hand on his shoulder and flies them on to complete their next mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More revelations to come in the next chapter! Did someone say Steve/Tony?


	8. Dean is NOT a Damsel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's what some of you have been waiting for... take note of the new tags that I've added for the smutty, smutty Steve/Tony action. ;) 
> 
> And to those of you have been patiently (or in some cases not so patiently) waiting for Dean and Cas to get their shit together, I say "My apologies," because you'll just have to keep on waiting. Those two are my OTP though so you know that I had to save the best for last. :P

Steve has gotten better these past few years at feeling confident when dealing with interpersonal interactions but right now he’s feeling a bit like a fish out of water. He knew that following Dean would have been a bad idea – he’s pretty sure that the angel would have actually killed him if he so much as looked at the Hunter after everything that just transpired in the training room. So he chose to go with Tony instead, thinking perhaps that he could assist the man in some way (though he knows that’s unlikely, Bruce and Vision are the only ones that Tony ever needs help from in the lab), but really he just didn’t want to be alone. 

And truth be told, he’s feeling the need to gain the upper hand in something – anything—right about now. Tony’s always up for an argument and maybe a sparring of words might make Steve feel better about the disastrous outcome of his most recent sparring of fists. 

The walk to the lab is made in silence, and it’s not a comfortable silence either. Steve can’t get a very good read on Tony right now. He’s not used to Tony holding his tongue. Normally he would be filling the silence with witty commentary or at least talking to himself about whatever technical stuff that he’s currently brainstorming – the man almost never stops talking. 

Tony’s current bout of selective mutism is so disconcerting that Steve feels the need to try to fill the silence himself if Tony won’t. “So… what do you think about these Norse methods that Thor and Sam have come up with? Do you think they’ll really work?”

Silence. Tony doesn’t even glance his way. Steve might as well be invisible. He doesn’t try again until they reach the lab. “What should we do while we wait for Thor and Castiel to return? Are you still running the facial recognition program?”

“Why are you here?” Tony finally speaks but Steve still isn’t sure what to make of the man’s emotional state. He isn’t looking at Steve. He’s tapping at one of his glass panels with his back to him. 

“I’m sorry, what do you mean? Where else would I be?” He can’t tell if Tony is just curious or if there is an accusation in his question but Steve folds his arms defensively over his chest and waits for him to elaborate. 

Tony turns on his heal and now Steve can see that glint in his eyes – definitely an accusation then. “I mean, why are you here in my lab and not off comforting your boyfriend? Your damsel’s in distress, Cap. Shouldn’t you be there wiping away his tears while he suffers through his existential crisis? Or should I say fucking them away? Because that is what you’re all about now, isn’t it?” Tony quirks a defiant eyebrow at Steve, daring him to deny his allegation. 

“Oh, that’s rich,” Steve scoffs. “This, coming from the self-described ‘playboy’ himself! Before Pepper you were with a different woman every night! Just because you’re in a committed relationship now doesn’t give you the right to judge how I choose to spend my free time, Tony.” 

Tony takes a step forward, bringing him within a few inches of Steve’s face, the shorter man looking up at him with a barely controlled look of fury in his expression. “That’s where you’re wrong, _Steve_.” 

Steve lowers his arms and curls his fists at his sides, matching Tony glare for glare. “Oh? So you’re saying that it _does_ give you the right?” 

“No.” Tony pauses and looks down, then looks back at Steve with an expression that he can’t quite read before he turns again and walks back to his screen. His next words lack the heat of his statements thus far, “Pepper and I aren’t together anymore.” 

“Oh, Tony…” Steve’s fists uncurl as his whole posture relaxes. “I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you say anything?” His friend must be hurting. He wishes that Tony would have trusted him enough to come to him with something like this. 

“Yeah, well, you’ve been sort of pre-occupied.” Tony turns back to Steve and gives him a pointed look before he continues. “What exactly would you have had me do? Knock on your door last night and politely ask you to take your dick out of Dean’s ass so that you could listen to me talk about my problems? Thanks but no thanks, that’s the last thing that I’d want to see.” 

Steve is used to how crude Tony can be sometimes but what he isn’t used to is the scorn he hears at Tony’s last statement. “Is that what this is about? Do you have a problem with me being attracted to men? I didn’t think that I’d have to deal with homophobia from any of my teammates, least of all you, Tony.”

“What?! No! Of course I don’t care about that. What I care about is that you never told me. What I care about, Steve, is that it wasn’t me!” 

“What wasn’t you?” Steve is confused now. He looks at Tony quizzically, waiting for him to elaborate. Tony looks like he can’t decide whether to explain or whether to fall back on old habits and play his outburst off like some joke, but Steve has had enough of Tony keeping things to himself so he gets up into the dark-eyed man’s personal space and tries to look a little bit menacing. “What wasn’t you, Tony?” 

He can tell that Tony doesn’t really appreciate the authoritative tone but surprisingly he deigns to answer Steve anyway. He doesn’t shout, but the anger is evident in his voice nonetheless. “It wasn’t me that you showed interest in. It wasn’t _me_ in that bed with you last night, screaming your fucking name!” 

What?! Just when Steve thought that this day couldn’t get any more fraught with life-altering revelations, Tony had to go and drop this bombshell. And Steve isn’t even sure if he can believe it. Tony has to be messing with him, right? He knows that the man likes to screw with people but would he really joke about something like this? 

Steve realizes that he’s just been staring at Tony for a good couple of minutes when the defiant look on the shorter man’s face slips a bit and he starts to turn away again. Steve’s quick to stop him, placing a restraining hand on his elbow and turning Tony back to face him. “Tony, I had no idea. You’ve never said anything.” 

“Well, like you just pointed out… I was in a committed relationship. And besides, you won’t even go on a first date with any of the women that Nat practically throws at you, I assumed that you considered hand-holding to be second base. So I figured that if I came onto you that you’d faint or something– how was I to know that Mr. 1940s was into having loud sex with someone he just met?” 

“Tony, did you ever consider that the reason that I never go out with any of those women is because I’m not interested in women? Dean may have been the first since I came out of the ice, but he wasn’t my first ever. Yes, the 1940s were very different but my attraction to men isn’t new. We just had to be more discrete back then.” 

Steve can’t help but think of Bucky, of all the quiet, secluded moments that they spent wrapped up in each other’s arms – what they wouldn’t have given to be able to show affection in public, to walk down a crowded street hand-in-hand without fear for their lives. And now that he knows that Bucky is alive – but he can’t think about that right now. He doesn’t know where Bucky is or even if Bucky is still Bucky anymore. And Tony is here, right now, admitting an attraction to Steve that the super soldier can’t help but admit is thrilling – the feeling is reminiscent of when Erskine told him that he would give Steve a chance and allow him to enlist. It’s something that he’s wanted for so long but never thought that he’d actually get a chance to experience.

Steve shakes off his silent ruminations and notices that Tony is looking thunderous again, something he said must have upset the man. “Speaking of Dean… I’ll ask again, why are you here? The mouthy asshole was pretty adamant about giving the angel the brush off – it seems he’s made his choice and it’s obvious that that choice is you, _Cap_.” 

Something in Steve snaps at that – that one little word is all it takes for him to lose control over himself and the next thing he knows, Steve has Tony’s mouth crashed against his own, one hand holding the shorter man by the back of the neck while the other pulls him in by the small of his back. The kiss is anything but tender; it’s all teeth and tongue – the two battling for dominance as they take out their frustrations on each other. 

Steve breaks the kiss after a few moments, holding Tony back as he says, “You couldn’t be more wrong, you know. Dean is head over heels for Castiel. He was just using me because he thinks that the angel doesn’t want him – that he _shouldn’t_ want him.” Tony looks affronted by Steve’s explanation of the situation but he doesn’t let him speak a word against the Hunter. “It’s ok, though, because I was just using him too. You know, for all your animosity toward Dean’s character, have you ever stopped to think about how much the two of you are actually alike? I mean, he may not look anything like you but he sure acts a lot like you.” 

Steve pauses and Tony’s face takes on a speculative look. “It may, in fact, be what attracted me to him in the first place.”

At that, Tony gets a very cocky smirk on his face. “Is that right? Well…” Steve doesn’t let him finish. Instead he swoops back in and starts kissing Tony again – he’s had enough of the man’s smart-ass remarks, he thinks it’s time to show Tony a better way to put that mouth to use. 

Steve breaks the kiss again to step back and start removing his uniform. “Less talking… and less clothes too. I need to see you, Tony; I need to touch your skin.” 

Tony’s eyes roll back in his head a bit and he groans, but he does as Steve says, quickly removing his shirt as he kicks off his shoes. They’re both naked in record time and Steve can’t help but feel like a leopard that he saw on a documentary recently, he’s looking at Tony like he wants to eat him – ready to pounce on the shorter man if he so much as moves a muscle. 

So that’s just what he does – he rushes up to Tony and starts attacking his neck with open-mouthed kisses interspersed with nips and gentle scraping of teeth. 

He’s happy to see that Tony is just as ready for this as he is, his cock hard and leaking as Steve takes him in hand. He feels the man shudder at the first pull, his head dropping back to allow Steve more access as his hand continues to stroke, thumbing the slit to gather the pre-come, twisting his wrist to spread it around and ease the glide. 

“Jesus, fuck Cap, you’re good at that. Is this the kind of shit that they teach you in the Army?” Of course Steve expected profanity from Tony but there’s just something about the man that Steve can’t help but want to shut him up. 

So he growls and moves his mouth back to Tony’s kissing the man hard before pulling back and saying, “Can’t you find a better way to put that dirty mouth of yours to use?” 

He had meant kissing but when Tony smirks and bats Steve’s hand away before sliding down to his knees and swiftly sucking the head of Steve’s cock into his mouth, Steve can’t help but thank a god that he now knows doesn’t exist in this universe apparently. 

He instinctively fists Tony’s hair in one hand, but gently, so as to not hurt the man. He doesn’t push or pull, just rests it there – tenderly rubbing Tony’s cheek with the thumb of his other hand as the dark-eyed man sucks on the throbbing head. He looks up at Steve, those beautiful brown eyes slightly hooded before he shifts his focus back to what’s in front of him, bringing his hands up to grabs Steve’s ass cheeks while he begins to bob his head forward and back, his tongue swirling around – and Steve can’t remember the last time that he felt like this, he doesn’t want this moment to end but at the same time he wants to pull Tony back up and kiss the man senseless, do everything to the man that he’s been fantasizing about for as long as he can remember.

Steve moans off and on for a little while before uttering, “Oh, _Tony_ …” He’s starting to feel a bit weak in the knees, the pleasure causing slight tremors to course through his body.

Tony pulls off and looks up at Steve, a mischievous grin overtaking his expression. “See what you’ve been missing, Cap? Did Dean make you feel this good? Were you thinking of me when you were fucking him?” 

Well, occupying Tony’s mouth obviously didn’t work so Steve decides to try another tactic in getting the man to hold his tongue. He yanks Tony up from the ground and shoves his tongue in his mouth, tasting the bitter flavor of himself on the other man. He kisses him until they both can’t breathe and then he spins Tony around and gently bends him over a nearby desk, kissing and licking his way down his back. He places his hands gently on Tony’s hips and kneels down behind him, giving him plenty of time to object before he moves his hands to spread his cheeks and licks a broad swipe over Tony’s hole. 

“Mother fucker!” Tony shouts and then bangs his head lightly against the desk. His legs buckle a bit but Steve holds him steady, continuing to lick around Tony’s entrance, eventually slipping the tip of his tongue past Tony’s rim. 

Tony groans and mumbles something incoherent so Steve pulls back and peeks to the side to try to look at Tony’s face. “Is this ok?” He can’t gage Tony’s reaction very well because the man still has his forehead pressed against the desk but he lifts one hand and gives a ‘thumbs-up’ gesture while he continues to make noises that Steve can’t quite interpret. He supposes that answer is good enough (he knows that Tony would make it very clear if Steve does something that he doesn’t like, it’s not like the man is shy about expressing his feelings) so he just shrugs to himself and dives right back in, this time sucking a finger into his own mouth before having it join his tongue in Tony’s ass. 

He keeps up stretching Tony out, eventually forgoing the tongue to add more fingers instead, and by the time he’s up to three Tony has long since ceased to speak. The man has been reduced to loud moans and quiet whimpers and Steve is having a hard time ignoring the throbbing ache of his cock, hanging heavy between his legs. He wants Tony so bad but he knows that saliva isn’t the best lubricant in the world, not to mention the fact that Steve’s dick is pretty large – the last thing he wants to do is hurt this passionate, beautiful man. 

Tony must have sensed Steve’s hesitance because he looks back over his shoulder at him and gestures to a drawer a few feet away. “Lube, top drawer, next to the WD-40.” Steve gives him a bit of a scandalized look but Tony just shrugs. “What? You think this is the first time that I’ve had sex in my lab? What can I say? Technology gets me hot.” 

Steve just shakes his head and chuckles slightly as he goes to get the small bottle. He returns and stands behind Tony, smoothing a hand up and down the man’s back. “Are you sure this is what you want, Tony? I don’t know if I’ll be able to return to just being frenemies with you if we do this.” 

“’Frenemies?’ Where the hell did you learn that word? Don’t tell me, Nat taught you?” He straightens up and turns to face Steve and the super soldier can’t help but glance down at Tony’s erection. Now that he’s seen it, had his hands on it, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever not want to be touching it – he really hopes Tony decides to go through with this. 

He brings his head back up to look Tony in the eye while he speaks to him. “Actually it was Fury. He said he didn’t care if you and I argued all the time, just as long as we could act civil enough around each other to complete our missions. He called us ‘frenemies’.” 

Tony scoffs and shakes his head but then he grabs Steve’s ass and pulls him close, planting a heated kiss on Steve’s mouth before pulling back to look him in the eye. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop arguing with you, I’m sure you know that… but I don’t want to go back to just being ‘frenemies’ either. I hope this is just the first of many times that you bend me over and fuck my brains out, _Captain_.” 

Tony winks at Steve and quirks his lips up on one side and Steve reaches out and grabs him by the hips, spinning him around again and pushing him down by the back of the neck. If Tony wants his brains fucked out then by God, Steve will oblige him. 

He pops the cap of the lube and pours a generous amount into the palm of his left hand before tossing the bottle onto the desk. He takes some and spreads it on Tony’s hole, making sure he can still fit three fingers in there comfortably, and then he uses the rest to slick up his own cock, giving himself a few slow strokes, easing some of the unbearable tension that has built up in his groin. 

“Ready?” Steve grabs Tony’s left hip with one hand and uses the other to line up the head of his cock with Tony’s slick entrance. 

“Hey, less talking, more fucking, Cap. I’ve been ready for ages.” 

Steve doesn’t waste any more time, slipping the head of his cock in and pushing forward, slowly enough so as not to damage but quickly enough so that Tony knows Steve isn’t messing around. He wants Tony to remember this – wants him to feel him long after they’re done here. 

He bottoms out but doesn’t linger, pulling back before snapping his hips forward again, causing Tony to shout, “Shit!” as his whole body is shoved forward across the desk. Steve sets up a brutal pace and soon Tony’s forehead is back down against the surface of the desk, loud moans interspersed with grunted curses as Steve pounds his ass, leaving finger shaped bruises on the shorter man’s hips. 

“Is this enough fucking for you, Tony?” Steve straightens up all the way and moves his hands to place one on each of Tony’s cheeks. He uses his hands to spread Tony apart, slowing down a bit while he watches his cock slide in and out of Tony’s wet hole. “My god, Tony… you look so good like this. I wish you could see the way you take me in so beautifully.” 

“Jesus, Steve, I don’t know which is hotter – hearing you say ‘fuck’ or listening to you wax poetic about my ass.”

“Be quiet.” Steve slaps Tony’s ass, making the man yelp, before he returns his hands to Tony’s hips, resuming his previous fast pace. 

Steve is getting close; he can feel that familiar tightening in his groin, so he leans over and plants one hand on the desk, the other reaching around to grab Tony’s erection. He begins to stroke in time with his thrusts while he sucks a mark onto the point where Tony’s neck meets his shoulder, causing the other man to moan and thrust his dick into Steve’s hand. 

“Do you have something else that you want to say?” Steve challenges Tony but the man just shakes his head, shoving his hips back to meet Steve thrust-for-thrust. “That’s what I thought.” 

It’s not long before Tony comes, groaning loudly as his ass clenches around Steve’s dick, giving the super soldier that last little bit that he needs to come as well – his cock spurting strongly as he stills his hips, buried as deep as he can possibly get. He rests his head gently on the back of Tony’s neck and he feels the other man slightly shaking below him.

“Are you ok? Did I hurt you?” He quickly straightens up, afraid to pull out but afraid to stay where he is, not sure what’s wrong with the man. 

Tony turns his head to look back at Steve and now he can see that the shaking was caused by laughter, the man’s brown eyes are sparkling and there’s a smile on his face. “Well, I’m not going to say that my ass won’t be sore for a few days but no, you didn’t hurt me. I’m just laughing because even though I knew you could be one bossy son of a bitch, I never thought that that would translate into you being a domineering bastard in the sack.” Steve looks sheepish and decides it’s ok to pull out. He doesn’t get too far though because Tony turns around and places his hands around the back of Steve’s neck, causing him to look at Tony while he continues. “Don’t get me wrong, I like it. It’s just that I sort of thought you’d be all meek and polite… not that you’re not polite per se… it’s just…” 

“Tony.”

“Yeah, Cap?”

“Shut up.” And with that, Steve brings their lips together, giving Tony a much more tender kiss than any that they’ve shared so far. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Surprisingly enough, Sam waits until the two of them are seated, cranking out salt rounds in an assembly line (while Natasha occupies herself on the other side of the room), to start in on the feelings talk. Dean had actually expected his brother to pounce as soon as they left the training area – the sasquatch must be learning; maybe he’ll eventually refrain from initiating these chick-flick moments entirely. “What the hell happened back there, Dean? What were you and Cas arguing about?”

Dean’s not sure how much of the confrontation that Sam had heard but he’s not naïve enough to think that Sam can’t figure out the gist of it. That doesn’t mean he wants to admit to his baby brother what a colossal fuck-up he is. “I don’t want to talk about it, Sam. Just leave it.” 

“No. I’m not going to just ‘leave it’, Dean. You need to talk about this. If not with me than with Cas. This stuff has been going on between the two of you long enough. I know that you have feelings for him… why can’t you just tell him?” Dean finishes off the shell that he’s working on and holds his palm out to Sam for another. But Sam is just looking at him imploringly with that wounded puppy look on his face so Dean sighs dramatically and prays silently for patience. 

“Sam… he’s a freakin’ angel, man! The things I’ve done… you weren’t there in Hell. But he was! He knows what I did – all the souls that I tortured… I’m tainted. He shouldn’t want to have anything to do with me. He deserves so much better.” 

“Yeah, _he_ was there, Dean. He’s seen your soul. He knows that all that stuff that happened wasn’t your fault. When are you going to stop blaming yourself for things that are out of your control?” 

“Out of my… Christ, Sam! I’m the one who took up the knife to save my own skin! I’m the one who carved out their eyeballs as they begged me to stop and cried for their mothers. Don’t you dare try to say it wasn’t my fault!” 

He can tell that Sam is trying to act sympathetic and understanding but he can’t quite wipe the look of horror off his face at Dean’s words. And that’s the last straw… he knows that look is completely justified – Sam looks the way that Dean feels whenever he lets himself remember his time in Hell – but he just can’t take that look on his little brother’s face. He’s got to get out of here and get his mind off of this complete shit-show.

He stands up quickly and glances at Sam once more before shifting his gaze to the door. “I’m going to get something to eat, I’m starving. I trust that you can finish these shells without my help. Maybe Natasha here can give you a hand.” He looks to Natasha who nods her agreement and then he’s stalking out of the room, Sam’s downtrodden sigh reaching his ears before the door swings shut behind him. 

He wasn’t lying, Dean really is fucking hungry. But he needs to do something to get his mind off his own poisonous thoughts. Maybe he can find Steve and they can go eat together. 

He tries the man’s bedroom first but he isn’t in there. He doesn’t think he’d still be in the training room and this place is fucking huge – he could look for hours and still maybe not find him. Then he remembers that disembodied voice that Tony had talked to before… maybe it could tell him where Steve is right now. 

“Um… Friday?” Dean looks around cautiously, like he expects some woman to jump out of a closet at any moment. 

“Yes, Mr. Winchester? How may I be of service?”

It’s still a surprise but Dean’s feeling a bit more confident as he continues with his query. “Can you tell me where Steve is?” 

“Captain Rogers is in the Lab with Mr. Stark.” 

“Oh, uh… thanks.” He’s not sure the etiquette involved when speaking to people who don’t actually exist so he figures it’s best to err on the side of politeness. She is being pretty helpful, after all.

“You’re very welcome, Mr. Winchester.” 

Dean’s pretty sure he can remember how to get to the lab so he heads out of the bedroom and before he knows it, he’s approaching his destination, his presence triggering the automatic doors and he walks right in. 

What he sees is a bit shocking, to say the least. Steve and Tony are both completely naked, wrapped in each other’s arms and kissing passionately. “Shit! I’m so sorry! Um… just pretend I was never here.” 

Steve and Tony both snap their heads around at his outburst but Dean doesn’t stick around to see the looks on their faces. He spins on his heel and rushes out of the room, practically running in his haste. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Damn it!” Steve watches Dean run out of the room like Satan himself were on his tail and he can’t help but feel his stomach drop down to his feet. This isn’t how he wanted Dean to find out about him and Tony. 

He looks around quickly and spots his uniform pants, forgoing his underwear to pull on the rough material. He doesn’t know where Dean is headed but he can’t let the man get too far – he has to explain the situation and make sure that the Hunter is ok. 

“What are you doing?” Tony watches unbelievingly as Steve hops on one foot, trying to keep his balance as he pulls on his second boot. He forgoes the top part of the uniform, instead just throwing on the tight-fitting shirt that he wears underneath before walking toward the door. 

“I’m going after Dean. I need to explain and apologize.” 

Tony walks after him and grabs him by the arm before he has a chance to walk out the door. “What do you mean, ‘apologize’? I thought you were just using each other? What do you have to apologize about?” 

“I just need to make sure he’s ok. He didn’t deserve to find out like this, especially after what just happened with Castiel. I’m sorry, but I have to go check on him.” Steve looks at Tony, imploring the man to understand.

“Fine. But he can find someone else to fuck away his tears. The only snarky asshole allowed in your pants from now on is me.” 

Steve utters a short, “Thanks, Tony,” and gives the dark-haired man a quick kiss before heading back out the door. 

He doesn’t miss the shouted, “Tell the princess that he already has his own knight in shining angel wings to rescue him from his dilemmas! He shouldn’t get to have all the blue-eyed saviors bowing to his every whim around here!” 

The doors shut closed behind him and Steve tries to think of where Dean would go but before he can decide he hears muffled shouting coming from the main gathering place – the same area that he had first learned Dean’s name, what feels like weeks ago though it was only yesterday morning. 

He can make out Dean’s voice, shouting loudly, so he quickens his pace, careful to do so quietly in case he needs to use the element of surprise. He hears gun shots and the sound of breaking glass and when he rounds the corner and looks into the room he’s kicking himself for not bringing his shield. And what the hell is with the security system?! There are no alarms sounding and yet there stands Loki, standing flush up behind Dean, his arm clasped around his neck, choking the Hunter while he struggles to break free. 

“How nice of you to join us, Captain. I was beginning to think that Dean here was the only one home. It wouldn’t have mattered too much though… he’s the one we came for anyway.” 

“Let him go, Loki. Whatever you want, you can deal with me. He’s not from here, he has nothing to do with this.” Steve quickly scans the room and notices that Meg is there too. She slinks up from behind Loki and steps around the god and into Dean’s personal space, caressing his cheek and then continuing down, dragging her hand languidly down Dean’s chest. “Don’t touch him!” 

And now there must be alarms going off in some parts of the building – either that or the gun shots and all the shouting is loud enough to attract attention – because Natasha and Dean’s brother are entering the room at one side with weapons drawn, Tony coming in from the other in his Iron Man suit. 

They don’t get the opportunity to do anything though because as soon as the others arrive, Loki utters a quick, “See you soon, Captain,” and then Loki, Meg, and Dean are gone – disappearing in the blink of an eye. 

“Dean!” Dean’s brother is shouting and rushing forward with his demon knife but he quickly realizes that it’s no use – Steve supposes that he knows better than anyone how fruitless the action is. 

“Well, shit…” Tony opens the face plate and looks at Steve. “Who’s going to tell the angel?”

“Tell me what?” Steve whips around at the sound of Castiel’s voice, his heart jumping up into his throat at the angel’s sudden appearance. 

“Um… well…” He’s starting to panic a bit now, wondering if there’s any way to say it without having the angel smite him on the spot. But there really isn’t any easy way to break this to him so he crosses his fingers and hopes for the best.

“Dean’s been taken.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffhanger but I've got the last 2 chapters outlined and this was where I needed to make a stopping point. We're coming to the end pretty soon here, people. I hope you'll stay with me for just a little while longer! <3


	9. Penultimate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the second to last chapter, everyone! But fear not if you are really enjoying this fic, for I am going to write a sequel! :D 
> 
> And in other news... I've also started a Supernatural human AU called "When the Second is First". I've posted the first chapter so please check it out (if that's your cup of tea) and let me know what you think. <3

“What do you mean, ‘Dean’s been taken’? Taken where; and by whom?” Castiel advances on Steve who backs up instinctively, his eyes darting around quickly. He’s trying to figure out his chances of escape versus his chances against the angel in another fight – he has to admit that his chances of success in either scenario are about zero. “How could you let this happen?!” 

Steve feels ice form in the pit of his stomach as he watches Castiel’s eye’s narrow and his angel blade drop into his hand. He’s saved from harm though by Tony who steps between Steve and the angel, his hand outstretched, palm facing Castiel. “It wasn’t his fault, Cas. Loki and Meg just showed up, grabbed Dean and shazamed the hell out of here. There was nothing Steve could have done.” 

Castiel doesn’t back down but he doesn’t advance any further either, his gaze shifting between Tony and Steve. He looks like he’s not sure whether to believe Tony or not but Steve doesn’t get to find out his decision because Dean’s brother walks up to speak to Castiel, drawing the angel’s attention away from them. “What about prayer, Cas? Has Dean prayed to you to tell you where they took him?” He looks so hopeful but the slumping of Castiel’s shoulders tells Steve that his hope is unfounded. 

“I don’t believe that prayer works here, Sam.” When Sam still looks hopefully at the angel, Castiel hastens to continue with his explanation. “Back in our world, I wasn’t only able to hear prayers that were explicitly meant to speak directly to me… I was also able to pick up on prayers that were vague and not completely formed… a sort of longing, if you will. Especially with Dean… Well, let’s just say that I haven’t heard anything from him or anyone else since I arrived here. It’s not all that surprising, really, considering there’s no ‘angel radio’ in this universe either.” 

“All right,” Tony says. “Prayer is out. Tell me you at least got all the spell ingredients we need to banish the bitch. And where’s Thor? You didn’t lose him along the way, did you? Please tell me you didn’t smite him?” Castiel is back to looking annoyed again but at least he doesn’t look quite so angry, stowing his blade and looking to Tony as he answers the man.

“Yes, I was able to acquire all of the necessary ingredients, and no, I did not smite Thor. He said that it will take him a little longer to fashion the rope but that he’ll join us as soon as he completes his task. Now… what can we be doing to find Dean?” He looks around the group, silently daring anyone to argue that Dean isn’t the priority here. Steve wouldn’t dare to cross the angel even if he didn’t agree that finding Dean needs to take precedence, but he just doesn’t know what to suggest in order to accomplish that goal. Tony has had no luck with his facial recognition programs – either the duo is finding a way to confuse the system or they’re just moving too fast for it to get a lock. Either way, they need to think of something else. 

“Well…” Dean’s brother speaks, and Steve can practically see the light bulb going off over the Hunter’s head. “If prayer is a no-go, what about demon omens? Tony, do you think you could work with me to reconfigure your program to track demon omens? It might at least give us an idea of where to start looking.” 

“I don’t see why not. Why don’t you come with me to the lab and tell me what I’m looking for.” Tony looks to Steve next, silently asking him what his plans are now. 

“You two go ahead. I’m going to go find Sam and Clint and let them know what’s going on. Natasha, do you want to come with me?” Steve’s not proud to admit it but he’s afraid to be left alone with the angel and if Tony isn’t going to be with him at least he figures there may be some safety in numbers. 

“Yeah, Natasha, why don’t you go with Steve… and Cas, how about you come with me and Sam to the lab. The rest of you can join us there.” He’s pretty sure Tony can tell how apprehensive he is because the man has a glint in his eyes that promises to end up in a thorough teasing at some point very soon. Damn the man for being able to read him so well. 

He mouths _thank you_ at Tony when Castiel turns to go and Tony sends Steve back a wink and a kissy face before turning to leave himself. Steve can’t help the blush and the small smile that overtakes his face at the memory of what he and Tony had just done not half an hour before but he sobers pretty quickly when Natasha clears her throat pointedly and Steve remembers that Dean is gone – taken by two evil entities that could be doing anything to him right now. He may even already be dead for all Steve knows. The thought sends a chill through his body and he turns to leave the room with a much harder look on his face. “Let’s go.” 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Evil bitch.” Dean stumbles when he’s let go, crouching a bit and trying to keep his eyes on both Meg and Loki at the same time. They’re in some sort of huge, dimly lit building that he thinks may be underground. Dean’s not sure exactly what it is but it looks like a sort of factory/airplane hangar, though there isn’t much by the way of aircraft in residence. He can see a couple of jets like the one they’d flown in yesterday but he’s pretty sure they aren’t on the compound anymore – this place is way bigger than the other building. It’s also fallen into noticeable disrepair – the walls are crumbling in places and there are piles of rubble dotted here and there. _Just great,_ Dean thinks, _not only do I have to worry about these two ass hats, but now I have to just hope that this whole building doesn’t come crashing down on my head._

“Oh Dean, you know how I love it when you talk dirty to me.” Meg gives Dean a lascivious look but doesn’t approach him. 

“Quit flirting you two, we have matters to attend to.” Loki somehow manages to look both bored and menacing at the same time.

“Actually, I was talking to you,” Dean says, giving Loki a sneer. 

“Well, I don’t have time for flirting either… maybe later.” Dean’s definitely not comfortable with the way Loki gets a contemplative look on his face and gives him a slow once over before seeming to come back to himself and continuing. “Right now what I want is for you to tell me how to go about crossing over to your universe.” Loki advances on Dean as he speaks, ending up directly in front of the Hunter with his big pointy spear – resting it gently, but firmly underneath Dean’s chin, encouraging him to tip his head up to look the god in the eyes. 

“And why would you want me to do that?” 

“Not that it’s any of your business…” Loki leans in even closer, dragging the fingers of his left hand down Dean’s cheek before grabbing his chin roughly. “… but I’ve grown tired of my own. Always being told what to do by my annoyingly self-righteous brother… always having my plans thwarted by the _Avengers_.” He lets go of Dean’s chin only to grab the short strands of his hair and pull his head back further. “If you are the worst that your universe has to fight against me, Dean… I think I’d like to take my chances… see what I can accomplish. So Dean, what’s the secret? How do we get from here to there?” 

“Your guess is as good as mine, asshole.” When all Dean does is show a defiant smirk, Loki releases him and steps back to look at him considering.

“Threaten his brother… or the angel. Winchester here is nothing if not a complete fool for those he considers family,” Meg says, and Dean’s eyes widen as fear starts to set in. Meg is right, of course she is, Dean would do anything to protect Sam and Cas… even if that meant subjecting his entire world to the evil of this super powerful megalomaniac. 

But even if he wanted to he doesn’t know how to cross back over – Cas hasn’t explained it to him so he just shakes his head. “I swear, I don’t know.” 

“Don’t worry, Dean… I believe you.” Loki moves the staff so that the tip is now pointed at his chest, directly over his heart. “Besides, that’s not the only way that I intend for you to be useful.” 

Dean looks down at the point of the staff, noticing for the first time that the glowing yellow gem that used to adorn Vision’s forehead is now affixed to the metal of the staff. That’s as far as Dean gets though because the next thing he knows, he feels a cold chill flow through his body and he’s looking into Loki’s smiling face… and he can’t fathom why but Dean knows that from here on out, he’s ready and willing to do the god’s bidding – whatever that may be. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Steve fidgets with the strap on his helmet which he holds in his hands while glancing nervously at Castiel on the other side of the quinjet. Tony and Dean’s brother were successful in finding a very likely candidate for Loki and Meg’s hiding place, so after Thor returned they all piled into the jet and took off. They’re on their way to the old Shield headquarters, the Triskelion, so Steve doesn’t have a lot of time if he’s going to do what he plans on doing. He steels himself and sets the helmet down on the seat next to him, trying to decide if he should bring his shield with him or not. He opts to leave it behind as well, and then he gets up and walks slowly and cautiously over to Castiel, stopping near enough to have a quiet conversation, but not so close as to give the impression that he’s trying to be threatening. 

“Could I have a word?” Castiel raises an imperious eyebrow at Steve, not deigning to respond but not busting out the angel blade either, so he figures that’s about as good a response as he’s going to get. “I wanted to talk to you about Dean.”

At that Castiel narrows his dark blue eyes and squares his shoulders so Steve hastens to elaborate. “Hey, no, look… I wanted to talk about _you_ and Dean.” Castiel relaxes his posture but doesn’t change his facial expression so Steve just continues quickly. “We all heard what you said in the training room earlier, ok? It’s no secret how you feel about Dean – which is totally understandable, believe me…” Steve’s pretty sure that he hears Castiel growl at that but he tries to ignore it as he goes on. “What I’m trying to say here is that Dean feels the same way about you.” 

At that Castiel ceases the posturing and tilts his head to the side, looking a bit confused now. “How do you know this?”

“I know this because he told me. He’s completely gone on you, Castiel… he just doesn’t think that he deserves you.” Castiel shakes his head slightly and chuckles humorlessly under his breath.

“Of course he does. It’s me that doesn’t deserve him.” Castiel says this quietly, looking down at his feet and playing with the cuffs of his trench coat. 

“Well, regardless, I just wanted you to know and to tell you that you shouldn’t give up. And you shouldn’t let Dean steamroll over your thoughts and feelings, or to try to make a joke out of it either.” He quickly shoots a glance over at Tony before returning his gaze to Castiel’s face. “I may not know Dean as well as you do but I do know someone a lot like him and I’m telling you that you need to do whatever you can to convince him of what you want and that he should want that too. He’ll come around… just don’t give up, Castiel.” 

Castiel gives Steve a terse nod, which he returns and then Natasha is speaking from the cockpit. “We’re here. Everyone ready?”

They land in a grassy area near a side entrance that’s still in-tact and Steve straps on his helmet before grabbing his shield and following everyone out of the quinjet. They all turn to look at him so Steve speaks. “Ok, if they’re here… we don’t know what all to expect. They may be alone but they may have controlled any number of people to do their bidding. So, if there are others, try to incapacitate instead of killing – at least until we know more.” Everyone nods their understanding and Steve leads the way. He breaks the lock on the door and enters the building quickly, but carefully.

It’s not long before they’re met by a group of heavily armed men intent on killing them. The team responds fast, everyone defending themselves in their own unique way. Steve knocks out two adversaries before he comes up against a familiar face. Well… it’s sort of familiar – after he incapacitates the third man and is met with a reprieve from oncoming fighters Steve takes the time to take off the man’s full face mask and it reveals Brock Rumlow. The man is scarred over most of his face but he’s still recognizable. Steve takes a moment to look around at the men all dressed in black and now that he thinks about it, he can recognize more than just Rumlow from the old Hydra crew. 

“They’re Hydra!” Steve shouts, knowing everyone will hear him through the ear pieces. “Exercise lethal force if necessary!” 

He looks back down at Rumlow when he hears the man groan and he fists the front of the man’s shirt and brings him closer to his face. “Where are they?!” The man just laughs so Steve punches him in the face before addressing him again. “I won’t ask again…” 

“They’re in the hangar.” Steve pulls back and punches him again, this time knocking him out cold. He leaves the man lying on the ground and stands to look at the rest of his team. Everyone seems to be holding their own – they’re down to one or two Hydra goons, but they’re quickly dispatched so Steve addresses the group. 

“Let’s go! They’re in the hangar!” They all head down a very long flight of stairs and arrive in the large hangar that Steve had seen before. It looks a lot different now though – crumbling infrastructure and broken parts scattered everywhere. When they arrive on the ground level, they’re met with another group of Hydra fighters but Steve can see Meg and Loki in the background as well. He sees Dean too – the man looks unharmed but he’s running straight at his brother brandishing a large knife, so Steve knows that something is wrong. 

“Sam! Look out!” Dean’s brother turns just in time to block Dean’s strike and then the two are fighting in earnest. Dean has a wild look in his eyes and now Steve can tell that he’s being controlled – either by Meg or Loki he’s not sure – but he doesn’t get the chance to think much more about it because he’s suddenly rushed by three more Hydra fighters. 

Through the punching and kicking and deflecting of bullets, Steve notices Thor in a stand-off with Loki while Castiel and Tony are flitting around Meg – both doing a good job at avoiding the dangerous red aura that she’s throwing at them. 

He finishes off the men that he’s fighting and then he’s running over to Dean and his brother to intercede between the two Hunters. He pushes Dean’s brother out of the way and punches Dean, as gently as he can while still being effective, and then he’s yelling at the other Hunter. “Sam! Go help Tony and Castiel – I’ve got this.” Steve can tell that Dean’s brother is of two minds on the issue but he only stalls a moment before rushing toward the demon and her attackers. 

Steve takes evasive maneuvers to keep out of reach of Dean’s knife but he doesn’t want to hurt the man so he doesn’t do much by way of attacking. “Dean! Snap out of it! You’re being controlled… you don’t really want to do this!” He’s so busy trying to keep Dean from hurting him or himself that he almost doesn’t notice when Natasha runs up behind Dean and whacks him hard on the back of the head with what Steve thinks is a lead pipe. The Hunter crumples to the ground and Steve rushes to his side, dropping down to his knees to check the man’s pulse. 

Dean is still alive so he tips his head up at Natasha with a furious look on his face. “What the hell, Nat?! You could have killed him!” 

Natasha just shrugs one shoulder and cocks a brow at Steve before speaking. “Cognitive recalibration… it’ll undo the mind control.” 

Steve looks around quickly to make sure that there are no other Hydra men coming at them but it looks like there are only a few more and Sam and Clint are taking care of them. Another quick look shows him that Thor and Loki are still slowly circling each other but as Steve watches, Thor reaches for the rope at his side and lifts it in one arm like a lasso. But instead of throwing it toward Loki who is standing in front of him, at the last moment he spins on his heel and throws it behind him, making the real Loki appear as the rope catches him around the waist. 

Now all that’s left is Meg so Steve tells Natasha to stay and watch over Dean while the super soldier runs over to the last remaining group. He gets there just in time to see Castiel appear behind Meg and grab her by the upper arms as Tony hits her with a round of salt that he had equipped into his suit. The hit seems to incapacitate her momentarily but it’s all the time Dean’s brother needs to pull a small bowl and a bag of ingredients from a pouch at his waist, tip the ingredients into the bowl, light a match which he then throws into the bowl, and then he’s reciting an incantation in some Scandinavian language that Steve doesn’t really recognize. 

Meg screams and then a blast of red aura mixed with black smoke expels out of her on all sides, knocking everyone nearby back about ten feet. She falls to her hands and knees and just sort of stays there, breathing heavily, her chest heaving. Everyone gets back to their feet and approaches her slowly and when Steve hesitantly says, “…Wanda…” the woman starts sobbing and falls to the ground completely, curling in on herself. Steve rushes to her side and gathers the crying girl up in his arms, rubbing her back and repeating, “It’s ok… It’s going to be ok…” over and over again. 

Everyone else is just sort of standing around, catching their breath and trying to give Wanda time to recover, but then Steve catches sight of Castiel, there one minute and by Dean’s side the next. The angel kneels down next to the Hunter and cradles his head in his hand as he brings the man up to rest his cheek against Dean’s forehead. It only takes a moment and then Dean is blinking awake, eyes darting around shortly before settling on Castiel’s face – and then he grasps the lapels of Castiel’s overcoat and buries his face in the angel’s neck, slumping against him in obvious relief. 

_It’s over_ , Steve thinks. He looks over to where Thor is standing, one hand holding onto the end of the rope with a scowling Loki confined on the other, the golden staff lying on the ground a few feet away. _It’s over and we’re all still alive._ He still doesn’t know what the Hydra men were doing here – how they escaped the destruction before and who’s been funding their survival since then, but that information will have to wait. For now they need to focus on dealing with Loki, helping Wanda recover, and getting the Hunters and the angel back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the subject of Meg, let me say this... I am not a fan of Meg but I know that some people really like her. So, instead of telling you what happened to her, I'll leave it up to you, the reader to decide. If you want to believe that Meg was banished back to Supernatural land no harm-no foul, so be it. If you want to believe that she's rotting in some Norse version of Hell, that's fine too. If you want to think that maybe she just jumped into a nearby body in the Marvel universe, well I'm not going to stop you (unless of course you think she's inhabiting one of the Avengers because she's not). Though if that's the case maybe someone else can write that spin-off fic because I'm done with Meg... for now at least. I'm almost positive that she won't show up in the sequel but I suppose I can't guarantee that until it is written (I'm never quite sure exactly what's going to happen until it happens - you know how it is). Anyway, I hope that this is a satisfactory explanation because I know my stance on that character doesn't necessarily line up with everyone else's.
> 
> Thanks again for sticking with me this far... one more chapter to go! <3


	10. The One You've Been Waiting For

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow... so this is it, the final chapter. For those of you who have been coming back and reading every time I post a chapter, I hope it was worth the wait. And for those of you who are just reading this from start to finish, I hope you're enjoying it too! 
> 
> Again, I'd like to say thank you for all of the lovely comments and the kudos. I think I can honestly say that the encouragement has made it possible for me to complete this work and enjoy it as much as I did. 
> 
> So, without further ado... I give you lots and lots of glorious destiel sexy fun times! Enjoy!

Back at the compound, Steve watches as Dean and Castiel converse with a shaken and scared-looking Wanda. Dean is sitting next to her on the sofa, holding one of her hands between his own two, while Castiel stands nearby. Dean is explaining something to her, with Castiel contributing every now and then – Wanda is nodding along or shaking her head when appropriate and she looks calm enough, considering, so Steve hopes that she’ll be able to get through this. She’s a strong person and with their help he thinks that she’ll be ok soon enough. Sam is with them too, just silently listening to what the three are saying. Steve will ask his friend to fill him in later. 

Thor and Clint are already gone – Thor almost immediately returned to Asgard with Loki in tow, and they had dropped Clint off at home on the way back to the compound. Vision is still in a state of suspended animation, as Tony informed him, but now that they’ve got the mind stone back, Vision will be back on the team as soon as Tony has a chance to fix him. 

“Poor Nat… It’s a shame that she has to say ‘goodbye’ to this one so soon after the Big Guy decided to take an extended vacation.” Tony’s words have Steve looking concernedly across the room to where Natasha is speaking softly with Dean’s brother – the much taller man leaning down so that she can whisper in his ear. 

“We could always ask them to stay a while? Dean had mentioned wanting to try out one of your suits…” Steve gives Dean a thoughtful look, raking his eyes over the Hunter from head to toe as if to imagine what he’d look like in the Iron Man suit. He’s watching Tony out of the corner of his eye though, knowing that his teasing will rile the other man up. 

He definitely isn’t disappointed – Tony’s expression darkens and he claps his hands together a couple of times before loudly exclaiming, “Natasha! Quit talking that poor boy’s ear off! They’re on a schedule here!” He walks toward the couple and Dean takes the opportunity to come over and talk to Steve. 

“So… the guy finally came to his senses, huh? Realized what a great thing he had right in front of his smug, fancy face?” Steve glances over at Tony with a fond expression on his own face before returning his attention to Dean.

“It was more a matter of clearing up a couple of misunderstandings. I didn’t know that he was interested; he thought I was deliberately overlooking him. Remind you of anyone?” Steve gives Dean a pointed look but the Hunter avoids looking him in the eye. 

When Steve just keeps staring and refuses to say anything else, Dean gives him a careless smirk and says, “What? You mean Thor and Loki?” By now Steve is used to Dean’s habit of hiding behind humor to avoid serious conversation topics (Tony does it so often that it really wasn’t hard to notice). But Steve doesn’t want to let Dean avoid this particular topic so he steps closer into Dean’s personal space and places a hand on his shoulder, making sure that Dean is looking him in the eye as he speaks. 

“I’m serious, Dean. You have a chance for happiness here. You know how Castiel feels about you, and I know how you feel about him, remember?” Dean lets his gaze drop, trying to avoid Steve’s earnestness. “Hey, look at me…” He places the fingers of his other hand underneath Dean’s chin and tips the Hunter’s head up until their eyes are locked again. “Don’t let your stubbornness and self-doubt get in the way of what you truly want. Take the chance, Dean. Believe me, it’s worth it.” 

Dean reaches up and takes Steve’s hand, moving it so that he’s cradling Dean’s face, Dean’s own hand placed over the back of Steve’s. Dean nuzzles the palm of Steve’s hand and steps even closer, speaking in hushed tones. “Does this mean you aren’t going to miss me, Cap?” 

Steve moves the hand that’s resting on Dean’s shoulder so that it’s cupping Dean’s other cheek instead, and then he leans in and gently touches their foreheads together. “I will miss you, Dean… quite a lot, I imagine.” He stares into Dean’s eyes for a moment but quickly glances down to the side of Dean’s neck before pulling his head back a little. “You know, I’m kind of disappointed that the angel healed _everything_ when he healed your head injury… not that I’m surprised…” He slides one hand down to where his bite mark had been several hours ago. “I would have felt better knowing that you were taking something with to remember me by… for a little while at least.” 

“Oh yeah?” Dean leans forward to whisper in Steve’s ear. “Want to put your mark back on me, Cap? Want to sneak off back to your bedroom and _really_ give me something to remember you by? If we make it quick I bet no one will even notice we were gone.” 

It’s tempting. There’s just something about Dean… the man practically oozes sexual charm, and even with Tony and his open invitation to let Steve have his way with him, Steve can’t help but respond to Dean’s advances – he can feel his cock hardening at Dean’s suggestion and the way that his bright green eyes practically glow with his arousal. 

But then, as if on cue, Castiel is standing directly behind Dean, glaring daggers at Steve. He drops his hands instantly and takes a big step back, putting at least an arm’s length between himself and the Hunter. “Uh… I sincerely doubt that. At any rate, I’m sure you need to be going… and I’m actually quite fond of living, so… Castiel, thank you for your assistance – it was greatly appreciated. And Dean… think about what I said.” He gives Dean a meaningful look and then walks over to shake Dean’s brother’s hand.

“Sam, it was nice to meet you. I wish it could have been under better circumstances but, well…” Steve shrugs as if to say _well, this is our lives… there really aren’t ever any ‘better circumstances’_. And Dean’s brother understands so he just shrugs too. “Take care of yourself, and take care of your brother…” 

“Of course, Steve… I will.” Dean’s brother walks over to join Dean and Castiel who are now standing in front of a closet door. Dean is holding a small silver bowl in one hand and Steve watches as Castiel takes out his angel blade, cutting into the inside of Dean’s wrist to allow for a slow trickle of blood to flow into the bowl. He puts his hand over the cut after he’s satisfied with the amount of blood in the bowl, healing the cut with a gentle caress. He does the same to Dean’s brother, though the healing touch afterward is noticeably more perfunctory. 

Finally, he takes the angel blade to his own wrist. When he slices through the skin, blood begins to flow but that’s not all that’s coming out. Steve can see a blue-white glow seeping out with the dark red blood and he vaguely recalls Dean telling him about how angels have grace instead of souls and how the angel blade can be used to kill an angel by destroying their grace. Castiel only allows a little grace to escape before quickly stowing his blade and using his good hand to heal his slit wrist. 

When he’s done, Castiel dips two fingers into the bowl and draws a pattern on the door, all while reciting an incantation in a language that Steve has never heard before – it almost sounds like Latin but the words are even more stilted, chanted out with a strong inflection. 

Dean looks back at Steve one last time, flashing him a warm smile, and then Castiel presses the palm of his hand to the center of the sigil and the door swings wide open, the interior completely obscured by a blinding white light. Steve shields his eyes and when he looks back, the door is closed, the sigil has been wiped clear, and the trio is gone. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Castiel lands solidly on his two feet in the motel room. Dean and Sam have stumbled in as well but they’re currently lying on the dingy carpet in an ungraceful sprawl. “Ah, home sweet home,” Dean says, lying on his back and looking up at the stucco ceiling. Sam gets up first, reaching a hand down to help his brother stand. Dean staggers over and flops unceremoniously onto the nearest bed. “Man, I sure am going to miss the beds at the compound.” 

Sam goes and retrieves his duffle bag and slings it over his shoulder. “I’m going to get another room.” He walks to the door but pauses with his hand on the door knob when Dean speaks. 

“What? Why? We’ve never needed two rooms before.” Dean is sitting up at the edge of the bed now, his booted feet resting on the floor. He’s looking at Sam but he keeps throwing nervous, furtive glances Castiel’s way. 

“You know why, Dean.” He looks pointedly at Castiel and then back at his brother. “Besides, I want to be alone. It’s been a rough couple of days and I could use the rest. I’ll see you in the morning.” He gives one more apologetic look to Castiel before uttering, “Night, Cas,” and then he leaves, closing the door softly behind him. 

“Dean… We need to talk.” 

Dean sighs and tips his head down, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed. “I already told you, Cas. There’s nothing to talk about.” 

“I disagree. I think there is a lot for us to discuss.” Dean snaps his head up and looks at Castiel with a stormy expression. 

“What could we have to ‘discuss’ that hasn’t already been said? Because the last time I checked, you’re still you – Castiel, angel of the Lord; and I’m still me – Dean Winchester, world-class fuckup and borderline alcoholic. What are you even still doing here, man? Don’t you have a war that you need to get back to?” Dean gets up and walks over to the small table. He opens up a bottle of whisky that he must have placed there before he was thrust into the alternate universe. He pours a couple of fingers deep of the amber liquid before knocking back the whole thing and then pouring himself another. 

“I’m not going anywhere until you listen to what I have to say, Dean.” Dean just scoffs and then drinks his second glass of whisky. Castiel remembers Rogers’ advice about not letting Dean steamroll him so he walks up to the Hunter and plucks the glass out of his hand and sets it down on the table before spinning Dean by the elbow so that he’s facing him. “You seemed to hold Captain Rogers in very high regard, yet you didn’t think he was ‘too good’ for you.” 

“You really want to talk about Steve right now, Cas? Because if I remember correctly, the last time that you expressed your feelings about him you got so pissed that you ended up going all ‘angel of the Lord’ on his ass.”

“I didn’t like the way he was touching you…” Castiel knows it’s a poor excuse. There really was no acceptable reason for him to attack the man like he did. But Dean just shakes his head, his expression a mix of sad and amused. 

“Yeah, I got that.” He breaks loose from Castiel’s gentle hold on his elbow and then walks over to peek out the curtained window, probably checking to make sure that the Impala is still where he left it. He turns back around to face Castiel, keeping his distance and folding his arms over his chest. “What brought all this on anyway? You never had a problem with any of the other people that I slept with. What makes this situation any different?” 

Castiel doesn’t like to think about the many other people that Dean has had sex with. It makes an angry, possessive feeling burn in his gut and he just wants to grab Dean and cover him with his own marks as a deterrent to anyone who may think that Dean is available for such activities. He’ll let Dean go if he absolutely must but he thinks it will be physically painful to see Dean with someone else now that Dean knows how Castiel feels about him. The need to touch Dean, to kiss him and claim him is so strong that it’s almost unbearable. He has to figure out a way to convince the Hunter that there’s nothing that should be stopping them if it’s what they both want. 

“I’ve always had a problem with the multitude of women that I’ve seen you with over the years. But I kept it to myself because it was all _women_.” Castiel crosses the room, coming to stand directly in front of Dean as he continues. “The _difference_ in this situation, Dean, is that Rogers is most definitely not a women.” 

“No, he sure isn’t.” Dean smirks and Castiel scowls. “Um, sorry. You were saying…” He lets his arms drop to his sides and Castiel takes the opportunity to step that much closer into Dean’s personal space, their chest almost, but not quite touching.

“I’ve always wanted you, Dean. From the moment that I touched your soul in Hell I knew that I needed to be always near you – I was drawn to the brightness and the warmth of your soul, and later to the kindness and the passion of your heart. You’re glorious, Dean.” Castiel lifts one hand and strokes it down the side of Dean’s face, cupping his jaw in his palm and gently passing the pad of his thumb over Dean’s full lower lip, causing the Hunter to flutter his eyes closed and swallow audibly. “I’ve wanted your body almost as long as I’ve coveted your soul, but I kept my desires to myself because as much as the gender of my vessel makes no difference to me, I was under the assumption that you were exclusively interested in female bodies.”

Dean nuzzles into Castiel’s palm like a cat, keeping his eyes closed and swaying his body forward that last little bit so that their chests are now touching. Castiel slides his other hand down Dean’s side and brings it to rest on Dean’s hip, tightening his grip and caressing his hip bone with his thumb. “So imagine how I felt when I saw you with Rogers and knew that I’d been mistaken. I felt like I’d been cheated out of my chance to have what I’d always wanted. That Rogers had swooped in and stolen what was rightfully mine… and you had let him.”

“I don’t _belong_ to anyone, Cas. I’m my own person,” Dean mumbles, his eyes still closed. 

“I know that Dean, I do. Believe me, after all you’ve taught me about free will, I understand that. But it doesn’t stop me from wanting it.” He brings both hands to the open edges of Dean’s over-shirt and peels it open before bringing the sides back over Dean’s shoulders and down his arms, the Hunter making no move to stop him. He drops the shirt to the ground and leans forward, smoothing his hands over Dean’s chest as he continues speaking, softly now and right next to Dean’s ear. “I want you to be _mine_ , Dean… I want you to give yourself to me freely – to let me give you pleasure and for you to allow me to leave my mark, my essence, on you… and _in_ you. I want everyone to see you, to _smell_ you, and know that you’re mine.” 

Castiel punctuates this last statement by licking Dean’s earlobe into his mouth and then scraping the sensitive skin between his teeth as he pulls back. Dean gives a small whimper and a full body shiver at that and brings his hands up to clasp tightly onto the lapels of Castiel’s trench coat. “Would you like that, Dean?” Dean nods but he still hasn’t opened his eyes so Castiel cradles Dean’s head in both hands and lifts his face up so that it’s level with his own. “Open your eyes and look at me, Dean.” Dean complies, his bright green eyes almost completely black as his pupils rapidly respond to Dean’s growing arousal. “Tell me that you want this, Dean. I need to hear you say it.” 

“I want this, Cas… God knows I shouldn’t, but I do. I want _you_ …” Consent received, Castiel surges forward and claims Dean’s lips. They kiss passionately, years of yearning and pent up emotion spilling out like a burst dam. 

Dean has a couple of inches on Castiel, as well as a bit more body mass, but none of that comes even close to rivaling the angel’s strength. Castiel pushes forward until he has Dean backed up against the motel room door, pinning him in place with his hips, hands roaming everywhere, desperate to touch every inch of the body that he personally put back together after pulling him out of Hell. “ _Dean…_ ” Castiel moves his lips down to latch onto Dean’s neck, he takes the time to suck a dark mark (the first of many if he has anything to say about it), and Dean lets his head fall back to the hard door with a ‘thunk.’ “I’ve wanted this for so long, Dean. I’ve spent so much time thinking about what you would taste like… the noises I could get you to make…” 

Castiel licks a broad swipe up the side of Dean’s neck and the Hunter lets out a loud groan and then breathes out, “ _Jesus Christ, Cas_ …” Castiel is well aware of how humans tend to be quite blasphemous during heightened states of arousal so he doesn’t bother admonishing Dean for his word choice. He’s actually hoping to be able to get Dean to take the Lord’s name in vain a lot more in the very near future… in fact, he’d consider it an accomplishment. 

He grasps the hem of Dean’s t-shirt and lifts it up and over his head, throwing it on the floor before ducking his head and licking at the anti-possession symbol tattooed over Dean’s upper chest. He mouths up just a bit, licking his clavicle and sucking another mark there. Castiel lets out a pleased hum at the sight, happy in the knowledge that it’s only his own marks that Dean will bear now – They’re there as long as Castiel wants them to be there, or until they heal naturally. But Castiel is pretty sure that they won’t get the chance – as long a Dean allows it he will be back to freshen up the marks long before they start to fade. 

“You gonna cover me from head to toe in hickeys, Cas? I’m gonna look like I got stuck in a pond full of leaches.” Castiel growls in the back of his throat, sucking an identical mark onto Dean’s other clavicle. 

“Yes. That sounds acceptable.” 

Castiel moves to suck a fourth mark onto the other side of Dean’s neck. Dean allows it but chuckles and responds with, “You know… there are other things that we could be doing besides making me look like a spotted leopard.” Dean punctuates his statement with a slow, deliberate roll of his hips that reminds Castiel that there are indeed many things that he’d like to do to Dean besides marking him up with his mouth. 

He returns to kissing Dean on the mouth, sliding his tongue together with Dean’s and tasting the lingering tang of whisky on his breath. He moves his hand to unbuckle Dean’s belt and then he quickly and dexterously undoes the button and lowers the zipper, giving himself enough room to slip his hand inside the man’s pants and wrap his strong fingers around Dean’s heated cock. They both let out matching moans – Dean’s due to the relief of finally having the good kind of pressure on his aching dick, while Castiel’s is caused by the euphoria of finally being allowed to touch Dean like he’s longed to for years. His hips give an instinctive jerk forward, his own hard member rubbing up against Dean’s thigh as it aches to be touched as well. 

He continues to kiss Dean – stroking him firmly while rubbing his clothed dick against Dean’s thigh. The feeling is wonderful – the unaccustomed rush of hormones coursing through his vessel and the delicious pressure on his previously underutilized penis is working together to culminate in the most fantastic warmth tingling in his groin. 

He remembers the time when he had woken up in Louisiana after the confrontation with the five angels in Van Nuys. He’d been human then and he had spent one very eventful fifteen minutes in the bathroom of Bobby’s house. Dean had been especially distracting that afternoon – straddling a chair backward with his legs spread wide. He had been standing close enough to smell the Hunter – that intoxicating mix of leather and gun oil and _Dean_ , his own personal scent that Castiel would recognize anywhere – and Castiel had become aroused. As an angel, Castiel was able to will away his arousal whenever it had appeared, but as a human he had no such luck. So he had excused himself to the bathroom and taken himself in hand – stroking up and down his hardened length and thinking about the time that Dean had winked at him and talked about getting ‘laid.’ It had been surprisingly easy and was over embarrassingly fast – just a few minutes of thrusting into the tight channel of his fist and Castiel had ejaculated all over his hand and the floor. He had spent the rest of the fifteen minutes cleaning up both himself and the room, willing his heartbeat to slow down and the flush to fade from his cheeks. 

He vividly recalls the feeling in his groin just before he had come and now he recognizes the feeling again. But he doesn’t want to come yet, there’s so much more that he wants to see and do right now. So he wills his body to calm down, pulling back so that he’s no longer plastered against Dean, and he removes his hand from the Hunter’s pants as well. Dean lets out a disappointed whine but doesn’t protest further when Castiel grips the waistband of his jeans, pushing them down his thighs along with his underwear. 

“Take these off,” Castiel commands, and Dean is quick to do as he says – leaning down for a moment to undo the laces of his boots before toeing them off and then removing his jeans and underwear, as well as his socks. By the time he’s done, Castiel has removed his own shoes and socks, and his trench coat and suit jacket as well. He’s about to remove his tie when Dean stops him with a hand on his wrist. 

“Let me…” Dean pulls him forward, the blue tie wrapped around his hand as it forces Castiel’s head toward the Hunter. Dean kisses him soundly, one hand holding him in place with his grip on the tie, the other hand trailing down to land on his belt. He undoes the buckle one-handed and then proceeds to unbutton and unzip his trousers, pushing them down over the swell of his ass and letting them drop unimpeded to pool around his ankles. Castiel kicks them off and Dean breaks the kiss. He removes the tie slowly, hanging it untied around his own neck and then his clever fingers undo the buttons of Castiel’s white shirt. 

When he’s done, Dean removes the shirt from Castiel’s arms and tosses it on the floor, leaving him in only the plain white boxer shorts that Jimmy had favored. Soon enough those are gone too and they’re both gloriously naked, hard cocks leaking, and Castiel can’t hold back any longer. He grabs the ends of the blue tie that Dean had casually thrown around his own neck and pulls the man in to kiss him roughly. He maneuvers their bodies so that Dean is walking backward until the backs of his knees hit the bed and then Castiel pushes him down gently. 

He nudges Dean until he’s lying on his back and Dean takes the hint and scoots up further on the bed so that his head is up on the pillows. Castiel follows him up the bed, and kisses him softly before pulling back and toying with the ends of his tie. He really wants to ask Dean something but he’s afraid of the man’s response. Dean must sense his hesitance because he looks up at the angel and asks, “Got something on your mind, Cas?” 

Castiel pulls the tie out from behind Dean’s neck and wraps the ends around his hands, gripping tightly and pulling it taut. “What would you say if I asked to tie you up?”

Dean’s eyes go wide and then a grin spreads slowly on his handsome face. “Have you been taking more lessons from porn, Cas? ‘Cause I never pegged you for the kinky type.”

Castiel ducks his head for a moment before looking Dean directly in the eye. “I just… I want to control the course of events tonight, Dean. I want you to be completely at my mercy…” Dean’s eyes flutter closed at that and Castiel notices that the Hunter’s cock jumps a little, a shiny spurt of clear liquid pulsing out of the tip and dribbling down the shaft. Castiel can’t stop himself from leaning forward and licking up the droplets. The taste is bitter with a hint of sweetness but it’s all _Dean_ and Castiel doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to get enough. 

Dean moans out a, “ _Yes…_ fuck, Cas… yes, do whatever you want,” so Castiel takes Dean’s wrists and loops the blue tie around them several times before knotting the ends and pulling Dean’s hands up to rest on the pillow above his head. 

“I’m not going to restrain you to the headboard so I’m counting on you to leave your hands where they are. Can you do that for me, Dean? Can you be good and keep your hands to yourself?” Dean nods a bit frantically and Castiel is thrilled to see that even though Dean is a very ‘take-charge’ kind of person in most aspects of his life, he seems perfectly happy to give up that control to Castiel in the bedroom. It’s intoxicating – the knowledge that Castiel can do all of the things that he’s been dreaming of (metaphorically speaking) and Dean will not only let him but be an enthusiastic participant as well. But it would be best to get a verbal confirmation so Castiel replaces his mouth with his hand and begins to gently stroke him as he says, “I’d like your word, Dean. Can you give me your word?” 

“I’ll be good, Cas. I promise.”

“And you’ll tell me if I do something that you don’t like, right? Because the last thing I want is to hurt you or make you uncomfortable, Dean.” He’s still stroking Dean and he can tell that the man is enjoying it greatly. He spreads his legs wider and quietly sighs as he relaxes into his position on the bed. The sight is just wonderful. It makes Castiel’s mouth water at just the thought of tasting all that beautiful, freckled skin. 

“Of course, Cas. I’ll let you know if I want you to stop… though unless you’re planning on breaking my bones or getting freaky with waste products, I can’t imagine complaining any time soon. Speaking of which… are we going to be getting on with it sometime soon, or are you just going to keep teasing me all night. Not that I mind, exactly, but like I said before… there are a lot of awesome things that we could be doing right now…” He lets his sentence trail off though once again, it does remind Castiel of all the things that he wants to do to Dean, and he knows that the human doesn’t exactly have his staying power. 

So Castiel leans back down again, this time taking one perky nipple into his mouth, sucking and nibbling on the hard bud while his hand gives similar attention to the neglected one. Dean moans and squirms, a delightful combination that Castiel will commit to memory forever. Then he moves his mouth downward, sucking kisses on the mostly flat plane of Dean’s stomach until he lands on Dean’s hip bone where he sucks another dark bruise before putting a matching one on the opposite side. 

He uses both hands to spread Dean’s legs even wider, then he’s kissing and nuzzling Dean’s inner thighs, sucking another couple of bruises as he works his way up toward Dean’s throbbing cock. He takes the head into his mouth and swirls his tongue around, licking up as much precome as he can. He sucks on the head, doing his best to draw out even more of the liquid – he enjoys the taste but he also likes the idea of having a part of Dean inside himself, something to take with him even after he’s forced to leave Dean (for however short a time) and go back to deal with what’s going on in Heaven. 

He takes more of Dean’s cock into his mouth, bobbing his head up and down, making the man moan while he tries his best not to jerk his dick up into the warm wetness of Castiel’s mouth. He pulls off after a couple of minutes and moves his head further down, mouthing at his balls for a few moments, first one and then the other, and then he goes even further still. 

Dean lets out the loudest groan yet when Castiel’s tongue slides over his hole. The angel doesn’t stop though, he just keeps tonguing Dean’s entrance, eventually letting the tip breech Dean’s rim and the Hunter moans out a slurred, “Holy fuck, Cas… that feels so good. I don’t even want to know where you learned to do that.” Dean stops talking quickly after that though because Castiel proceeds to plunge his thick tongue in and out of Dean’s tight little pucker, fucking him speechless as the angel holds his thighs spread wide. Dean would probably be surprised if he knew what Castiel knows about pleasuring a person. He may be naïve about some things but Castiel has spent millennia observing humans on Earth and he’s seen his fair share of sexual acts. He used to think it was boring but he’s glad that he was made to endure it because now he can put that knowledge to good use… here, with Dean. 

He pulls back enough to look up and ask, “Do you have lubricant, Dean?” 

He ignores Dean’s exasperated, “It’s just _lube_ , Cas. Calling it ‘lubricant’ sounds weird and clinical,” in favor of getting off the bed and walking over to paw through Dean’s duffle bag, coming back victorious with a small bottle of slippery goo that he uses to slick up the fingers of one hand. He settles back between Dean’s thighs and inserts one finger right away. He’s thorough but not overly gentle about it, working his way up to three fingers before pulling them out and straightening up on his knees. 

He doesn’t replace his fingers with his cock quite yet though, even though he can tell that Dean is expecting it. But his confused expression begins to clear when Castiel shuffles further up the bed and straddles his chest. Dean licks his lips as he looks at Castiel’s hard cock, just mere inches in front of his face. “Blow me, Dean.” That gets the desired reaction – Dean chuckles and shakes his head, looking up fondly at Castiel as he remembers the time that Dean had said the same thing to him. 

“You got it, babe.” Dean winks at him and Castiel feels his heart flutter at the endearment, pausing a moment to caress Dean’s cheek with his thumb before sliding that thumb into Dean’s mouth and holding it open while he slips the head of his dick past those perfect lips. Dean hums as Castiel pushes in, lifting his head off the pillow and bobbing it forward, meeting Castiel halfway and taking him further and further into his mouth with each thrust. The wet, sucking heat is exquisite and Castiel revels at the feeling of power he gets from using Dean this way. 

“You’re so good for me, Dean. You suck me so well.” Dean hums happily at Castiel’s praise, speeding up his rhythm to try to please the angel. “You enjoy this, don’t you, Dean? You enjoy letting me take my pleasure in you like this… don’t you?” 

Dean pulls off long enough to gasp out, “ _Yes…_ ” and then he’s back to working Castiel’s cock in and out of his mouth, continuing to moan as he bobs his head. 

“It’s only for me now though, Dean. I’m the only one who gets to experience you like this now.” 

Dean nods his head as much as he’s able, humming out a muffled “Mmhmm,” without slowing down. 

“Good. Because I’d be very upset if I found out that you were sharing yourself like this with anyone else from now on, Dean.” His thrusts get harder and deeper, encouraging Dean to lay his head back on the pillow and just take it. “You’re mine now, Dean. Please don’t forget that.” 

Castiel is starting to get dangerously close to coming again – his breath is coming fast and his heart is racing, and he feels that tingling warmth pooling in his groin. But he isn’t done with Dean quite yet – he’s determined to claim Dean in every way that he can tonight, so he pulls his dick out of Dean’s mouth and shuffles back far enough to be able to lean down and kiss him, his tongue plunging into the Hunter’s mouth. He can taste himself on Dean’s tongue and it causes a sharp, possessive feeling to curl through his chest.

“Turn over, Dean. I want you on your elbows and knees.” Castiel gets up so that Dean can do as he’s told. He gets distracted by the sight of Dean’s ass though. His legs are spread wide on the bed and his hole looks like it’s on display for Castiel’s eyes only -- It’s pink and glistening and practically begging to be filled and Castiel just stands there, staring at it and slowly stroking himself until the sound of Dean’s voice breaks him out of his trance. 

“Are you going to fuck me, Cas? Or are you just going to stand there jerking off while my poor body is completely neglected? There’s not much I can do with my hands like this, you know.” He lifts his hands a bit to remind Castiel of their bound state and Castiel quickly gets with the program – the sight of his tie around Dean’s wrists spurring him on as he positions himself on the bed. 

He grabs the bottle of lube and pours a bit more onto his hand to spread it over his aching cock. With the remainder, he checks to make sure that Dean is still sufficiently stretched, sliding three slick fingers in and out of his hole until the Hunter is moaning and writhing below him. “I’m ready, Cas, _please…_ ” 

“Please what, Dean?” Castiel takes hold of his cock in one hand, steadying Dean’s hip with the other. He enjoys teasing Dean so he slides the wet, throbbing head of his dick over Dean’s hole, pressing down but not yet pushing in, over and over again. 

“Please fuck me, Cas. Fuck me so hard that I’ll feel you for days. Fuck me and fill me up with your come… I want to feel you inside me and all over me. Mark me with your come so everyone knows that I’m yours. I want to be yours, Cas.” Dean’s words are perfect – voicing Castiel’s thoughts exactly – and before he knows it, Castiel is buried deep within Dean. He probably entered him more roughly than he had intended so Castiel stills and waits for Dean to let him know that he’s ok. 

Dean lets out a noise that sounds awfully close to a sob but then he’s moaning and pushing his hips back so Castiel takes the hint and starts moving. He starts slowly at first, savoring the feel of Dean’s hot, tight ass as he thrusts in and out. It’s even better than he had imagined. He doesn’t think that anything could ever feel as good as this. The glory of Heaven, even the grace of God pales in comparison to the feeling of becoming one with the Righteous Man. 

He thinks that he may have been speaking his thoughts out loud again because now Dean is moaning even louder and speaking brokenly as Castiel fucks him hard and steady. “I… don’t know… what you… just said… but… say it again… Cas… I love… when you speak… Enochian. Oh, _fuck_ … right there, Cas!” He’s so lost in the sensations of Dean’s body and his own that he hadn’t even realized that he was speaking… much less that he was speaking in Enochian. But Dean says that he loves it so Castiel makes the conscious decision to keep speaking, saying exactly what he’s feeling without the worry of being understood. 

“This feels so good, Dean. If it were up to me, I’d never leave your side. I would keep you here for days, weeks even – I would feed you and bathe you and fuck you until you were completely exhausted, and so full of my come that you’d never _not_ smell like me. And I would mark you up all over your body.” He accentuates this last statement with a loud slap to Dean’s ass. His fair skin almost instantly shows the impression of his handprint and that sight alone almost makes Castiel come. He has to slow his thrusts and close his eyes to focus on calming himself. Healing the mark that his hand left behind on Dean’s shoulder is one of the biggest regrets of Castiel’s life (such as it is). Almost immediately after he’d done it he had regretted it – the Hunter had kept it hidden before that but knowing it was there was enough to soothe Castiel’s nerves when the man had gone off on one of his trysts. 

Now the mark is gone and Castiel wishes that he could put it back. He doesn’t think that Dean would like that very much though but this is an acceptable compromise for the time being. He slaps Dean’s ass again (the other cheek this time), leaving another perfect hand print, and Dean moans and bows his head until his forehead is resting against his bound hands. He looks like he’s in prayer and the thought sends another jolt of pleasure down Castiel’s spine – he moans loudly himself and tips his head back, closing his eyes and just immersing himself in the feel of Dean clenching around him.

Castiel could do this indefinitely but he knows that Dean cannot. In fact, the Hunter is starting to look pretty exhausted – he’s dripping sweat and all of his limbs are shaking slightly. He decides to have mercy on his beautiful human so he switches back to English and drapes himself over Dean’s back, leaning down until he can speak directly into Dean’s ear. “Are you close, Dean?” 

Dean nods and says, “Yes, I’m so close. Touch me, please, Cas. I want to come.” 

“No, Dean. I don’t think I will. I want you to come on my cock, alone. Do you think you can do that for me, Dean?” Dean whimpers but doesn’t say that he can’t so Castiel takes that as his cue to keep going. He leans back again and grabs hold of both of Dean’s hips to hold them in place and then he angles his cock so that it jabs right at Dean’s prostate with every thrust. “You’re so good, Dean… Always so good for me. I want you to come now, Dean. Come for me, my love.” 

Dean makes a strangled sound and collapses onto the bed as he comes. He’s completely wrecked and barely even seems to notice that Castiel is still buried deep within him, his own cock spurting as he fills Dean up, marking up his insides with his hot, thick come. 

Castiel doesn’t want to crush Dean, but he doesn’t really want to move either, so he compromises by snaking an arm underneath Dean’s middle and maneuvering them until they’re lying on their sides, Castiel holding Dean from behind while his mostly hard dick is still snug within Dean’s ass. He reaches over and unties the blue tie, unbinding Dean's wrists and giving him a gentle caress to ease the stiffness. He sighs a bit dreamily and kisses the side of Dean’s neck before settling his head back down on the pillow and running his fingers soothingly through Dean’s sweat-soaked hair. 

Dean is silent so long that Castiel thinks he must have fallen asleep. So it’s a bit surprising when he’s interrupted in his vivid recollection of the past hour by Dean’s quiet voice asking him a question. “Did you mean it?”

He pauses in his gentle stroking for just a moment before resuming and answering Dean. “Did I mean what?” 

“You called me your ‘love.’ Am I… Do you? I just… Did you mean it?” Dean is still facing away from him so Castiel completely removes his softening cock and turns Dean so that they’re facing each other. He cups Dean’s cheek in one hand and leans in to kiss him, slowly, but thoroughly before pulling back to look into those beautiful green eyes.

“I love you, Dean. You must know that by now…” Dean looks skeptical, which doesn’t surprise Castiel, not really, so he continues. “I have loved you as a charge, then as a friend and a comrade, and finally as family. Even before I ever thought that you could return my affections, I knew that I would love you with everything that I have until the day that I cease to exist. You are it for me, Dean. You are my everything.” 

“ _Cas…_ ” Dean surges forward and kisses Castiel as if his life depends on it. He can feel the love that Dean pours into this kiss, even if he isn’t ready to say it in words. He may never be ready to say it and Castiel has almost resigned himself to that. It would be nice to hear but the angel knows that the human has hang-ups about that word so instead he basks in the warmth that Dean expresses through his actions. There’s love in his smiles and his lingering looks, and now there’s love in his kisses, in his gentle caresses and passionate embraces. 

He’ll have to leave Dean soon – he needs to get back to Heaven, to his soldiers and the civil war that he has waged to protect the man that he loves from a destiny that both of them refuse to accept. But he’ll be back. He’ll stand by Dean’s side when he can, and watch out for Dean from a far when he can’t. He knows that, unfortunately, he’ll have to do some things that are questionable to keep him safe. He’s _already_ had to do some things that he knows Dean wouldn’t approve of. Dean’s safety is paramount though, and everything that Castiel does, he does for Dean. So he’ll keep on doing what he had before and just hope that everything goes according to plan. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Loki sits alone in his cell in the Asgardian dungeons, his nose in a book and looking thoroughly bored. 

“Where is it?” Loki looks up to see Thor, earning his title as the God of Thunder, if the look on his face is anything to go by. 

Loki just looks back to his book, turning a page, though he really isn’t actually reading it. “Where is what, brother dear?” 

“You know ‘what’, Loki. What have you done with the Tesseract?” 

“Oh… that.” He closes his book and sets it down on the small table, giving Thor his complete attention for the first time that day. “How could _I_ have done anything with it? I’ve been locked in this cell ever since we got back. You remember… you're the one who put me here.” 

“The Tesseract went missing during your little sojourn impersonating our father… as you well know.” Loki gets a dark look on his face and stands up, walking over and standing directly in front of Thor who’s standing on the other side of the clear, magical cell wall. 

“ _Your_ father, Thor… Your father. I have no father.” He walks back over and sits down again, picking up another book and opening it to a random page. “As for the Tesseract… well, it really is a shame that you all aren’t capable of taking care of your toys… but I can’t help you. I have no idea where it is.” 

Thor seems to think better of engaging Loki any further. He gives his brother a glare and then stalks out of the dungeon room, sprinting up the stairs and out of sight. Loki smiles to himself and closes the book. He lies down on the bed with his hands pillowed behind his head as he looks up at the ceiling and contemplates his escape. It’s only a matter of time before he figures out how to break free of this place again. And when he does, he knows exactly where to go and what he’ll do. Hiding the Tesseract had been a stroke of genius on his part. The powerful cube will be the perfect way for Loki to skip out on this universe and move on to another. If he’s lucky he’ll be able to find the one that Meg had come from. The demon’s powers were nothing compared to his own – he should have no problem ruling there as a king like he had always been meant to be. 

For now though, he just needs to bide his time… his day is coming and he will be ready for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's The End, folks. If you enjoyed this work, please don't forget to leave kudos and tell your friends! 
> 
> There is a sequel in the works so keep an eye out for that.
> 
> Also, if you enjoyed the Steve/Dean pairing in this fic, I've posted another, shorter one-shot called "A Hunter in the Streets but a Fangirl in the Sheets" that you'll probably like as well. Head on over and check it out to tide you over in the meantime!


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